


strange trajectories

by wrennette



Series: sithnip [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Maul is dead and will stay dead, Obi-Wan and his Sith collection, Sith Shenanigans, anti-Sith shenanigans, invalidating canon through better communication and mental health treatment, some of thos characters don't show up until later, to Dathomir!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-11-12 13:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 27,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11163006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: Hunting evidence of Maul's misdeeds, in hopes of discovering and implicating the Sith Lord, leads Obi-Wan and Anakin to Dathomir and beyond.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this story is the immediate sequel to [coruscating shadows](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10662093) so if you haven't read that, this may not make much sense. 
> 
> Begins a few months post revelation of Anakin's Fall on Tatooine, and subsequent beginning of his mental healing with professionalsTM. The arc of this story invalidates some later canon, but it's AU, so hopefully you were anticipating that.
> 
> As someone who has only watched the movies and clone wars animated series (cgi version), some of this is sourced mostly via deep dives into wookieepedia. If something is egregiously different from canon, let's assume I did that on purpose and for a reason, rather than out of sheer ignorance :)

> Last, in coruscating shadows: _Obi-Wan might be entangled in a Sith plot, about to leave on a dangerous mission, and trying to anchor a Fallen Padawan to the Light, but for the moment he was safe and warm and brilliant in the Force at Mace’s side, smiling and content._

If Dooku was lightning wrapped in dense stormclouds, Asajj Ventress was the lightning strike itself, the incendiary incongruity of ball lightning creeping close before exploding in your face. The Dark side of the Force crackled and snapped around her, and she was all fire and aggression when she attacked, nothing controlled about her. She was flash and flare and searing heat, and Obi-Wan danced from beneath her blades with a curse. He felt Xanatos’ shrouded-moon presence at his shoulder and deflected, each of them engaging a Sith-red blade. Bruck was nearby, as overprotective as his former Master but not quite as long legged, and with a new Padawan at his side, he was feeling rather cautious about to boot. 

_(Why had Obi-Wan been blessed with such a tall Lineage? Qui-Gon and Dooku were verifiably gigantic, and Xanatos and Anakin almost as tall. Every other member of their Lineage was taller than Obi-Wan save Yoda and Ahsoka. Even if the others were all averaged together, Yoda included, Obi-Wan had a feeling he’d be below the mean height. And Ahsoka, as a Togruta would likely end up taller than Obi-Wan even without her montrals entering the equation. It was positively unfair.)_

“Where is he?” Ventress hissed. “Where have you taken my Master?” Obi-Wan traded a look with Xanatos. 

“Nope, that’s all you Kenobi,” Xanatos said with a smirky smile that made Obi-Wan absolutely want to punch him in the mouth. Sometimes his Lineage made him really regret being chosen as a Padawan and trained to Knighthood. They were the _worst_.

“You’re an awful older brother,” Obi-Wan groused, giving a step as he parried, then ducking under a wild swing and deflecting again.

“I’m the _best_ older brother,” Xanatos argued arrogantly, flipping his long black hair over his shoulder as he sidestepped a wildly flailing sweep, then vaulted over Ventress and engaged with a sharp Makashi style thrust, twisting the ‘saber he caught with his own out of Ventress’ grasp. It was a well executed move. A moment later, Obi-Wan cut the power to his blade and slammed the hilt into the fingers of her other hand, and she dropped her second ‘saber in shock. Obi-Wan engaged his lightsaber again, holding the searing blue blade to her throat, close enough she could feel the heat but not so close as to burn her pale greyish skin.

“Let’s try this again,” Obi-Wan said in his best _Anakin sit down and listen, I’m serious,_ voice. Rather to his surprise, Ventress settled, although she still glared balefully. She couldn’t be that much older than Anakin though, twenty, maybe twenty-five at the oldest, a decade or so Obi-Wan’s junior. “Master Dooku willingly came back to the Temple. He is here by choice. He does not need to be saved. If you swear not to try and hurt anyone, and he is willing, you may see him.” 

“Wait, we’re letting in scary girls with Sith blades now?” Bruck piped up, and Obi-Wan, without a single wavering of the hand, turned his head just enough to give Bruck his best _shut up Anakin_ look. To be fair, Obi-Wan had been practicing his quelling looks and scolding tones on Bruck and Xanatos for _years_ before he met Anakin, but he’d absolutely perfected his side-eye once he became Anakin’s teacher. “Right, of course we are,” Bruck grumbled. “Seriously we can’t let you go three steps without picking up a Darksider.”

“I’d stop complaining about now, considering _you’re_ the first Darksider he picked up, Chun,” said a familiar cool baritone. Obi-Wan fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Dooku would show up with a snide remark. Of course.

“Master!” Ventress cried, her tone somewhere between strangled shame and gleeful relief. Her greeting easily drowned out Bruck’s grumbling, for which Obi-Wan was quite grateful. 

“Hello Asajj,” Dooku greeted with the impression of a sigh but more warmth than most would expect of such an austere Master and dubiously reformed Sith. “While I’m touched you came, this probably wasn’t the best way to arrive,” he said almost gently. Obi-Wan stepped back, cutting off the power on his ‘saber. Ventress shifted, reaching up to rub at her neck as she sneered aggressively at Xanatos and Obi-Wan. There was no mark, but it couldn’t have been comfortable to have his lightsaber so close to her skin. “You’re making my grand-padawans nervous,” Dooku chided, but Obi-Wan knew the old man well enough by now to know he was being teased. He fought the urge to pout. It wasn’t his fault he was the best Sith-bait in the Temple. He was being punished by the Force, he just knew it.

“Of course I’m making them nervous,” Ventress said proudly, lifting her chin. Her pale eyes blazed with defiance. 

“I’d like it noted, for the record, that I’m not nervous,” Obi-Wan said dryly. “I’m aggravated. There _is_ a difference. Now, will your Padawan be staying grandmaster?” He glanced over at Dooku, raising his eyebrow. Ventress’ facade grew a bit thinner at the official Jedi term, her longing more evident, and Dooku almost visibly wavered. 

“Of course I’m staying with my Master,” Asajj sniped after a moment, lifting her chin defiantly and twisting her mouth into a rather convincing sneer. “Jedi,” she huffed, although Obi-Wan was certain she meant _laserbrain_. He simply gave her a thin smile, then secured his weapon and turned on his heel, striding off. “Wait, that’s it?” Ventress demanded. “That’s _it_?”

“Would you prefer permanent scarring my dear?” Obi-Wan asked over his shoulder with deceptive mildness. “That _can_ be arranged, although it would be a tragedy to ruin such a lovely face.”

“Ugh, stop flirting,” Bruck groused, and Obi-Wan didn’t even have to look over to know that his nose would be scrunched up with displeasure. 

“I’m not flirting,” Obi-Wan denied, and Xanatos chuckled darkly. 

“You’re _always_ flirting,” Dooku said quellingly, and Obi-Wan flushed slightly, turning a vaguely betrayed look on his grandmaster. _I am not_ , Obi-Wan managed not to respond, because he was not a youngling, thank you _very_ much, and he did _not_ always flirt.

“You are,” Xanatos agreed, and Obi-Wan scowled outright, because ever since Dooku had come back to the Temple, he and Xanatos had got along _far_ too well, as evidenced by the improvement of Xanatos’ lightsaber skills now that he had a - _the_ \- Makashi Master to train under.

“You’re just upset I’m prettier than you,” Obi-Wan sniped back before he could help himself. _Not a youngling_ , he reminded himself, wrinkling his nose slightly. 

“No one’s prettier than me,” Xanatos said in full confidence that said opinion was fact. 

“Ehh, I’ve seen prettier,” Ventress offered, giving Xanatos a once over that was somewhere between appraising and lecherous. Xanatos merely raised an eyebrow at her, shifting his weight so he looked like some sort of Jedi propaganda poster in his black tunics and tabards, his glossy black hair fluttering over his shoulder. She turned that appraising look on Obi-Wan, and he nearly flushed at the weight of her gaze. She merely raised an eyebrow, then sauntered over to Dooku and took his genteelly offered arm.

“I have this funny feeling my mission has been cancelled,” Obi-Wan sighed, and turned to follow Dooku and his Padawan into the Temple. Bruck chortled and fell in step with Obi-Wan, Xanatos silently bringing up the rear. As they entered the Temple, Anakin, who was walking toward them with his pack, stopped short, face falling visibly into dismay.

“Master?” Anakin asked.

“Change of plans my dear, grandmaster’s Padawan has come to stay for a while,” Obi-Wan said, and Anakin blinked, turning to stare after Dooku.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan is good at a lot of things. Self care isn't always one of those things.

A soft beep alerted Obi-Wan he had an incoming message as they followed Dooku and Ventress back into the Temple, and he paused, idling at the edge of the corridor as he fumbled his comm out of his utility belt. There had to be a better way of carrying these little annoyances, Obi-Wan thought as he toggled the display at seeing a blinking yellow light. High priority message. Selecting it, the blood drained from his face. Healer Anu. Anakin’s mind-healer. 

Looking up, Obi-Wan saw that Anakin, Bruck, and Xanatos had all paused and were waiting on him. The Council would likely meet shortly regarding what to do with Ventress. It didn’t matter. This was about Anakin’s health. Anu wanted to meet as soon as was convenient, and had suggested meeting at Obi-Wan’s quarters. The fact that xe was unwilling to say anything in a message set every protective instinct Obi-Wan had on edge, although he would readily admit he was already a bit overprotective of Anakin given his recent Fall.

“Urgent message, go ahead,” Obi-Wan said, there being no decision at all in this matter. “The Council doesn’t need me to decide whether grandmaster keeps his Padawan. Anakin, stay close, I imagine our mission will only be delayed a little while, we may yet leave for Dathomir today.” Anakin nodded, and it was clear he wanted to know more. Obi-Wan hesitated. If Anu was contacting him, xe had likely cleared it with Anakin first. Anakin would have had to give permission for Anu to discuss _anything_ with Obi-Wan, even though Anakin had been reclassified as Obi-Wan’s ward until the mind-healers said otherwise. “Anu,” Obi-Wan said simply, and Anakin grimaced, but nodded. 

“I’ll look up Tru and see if he’s willing to spar,” Anakin said, and Bruck ostentatiously cleared his throat. “Or I’ll go play with Bruck and Ahsoka,” he said with a little more enthusiasm, and Bruck grinned. He was excessively proud of his new Padawan, of the fact he was _allowed_ a Padawan. Xanatos had never felt the need to train another after Bruck was Knighted, and Bruck had assumed (erroneously) that as a reformed Darksider he wouldn’t be permitted to take a Padawan. 

There had been some grumbling of course - a Darksider teaching the future of the Jedi Order? But Bruck’s bond with Ahsoka seemed willed by the Force itself. He’d been visiting her in the creche for years, had taught her clan of younglings since they were knee high. In the end, Bruck claimed, Ahsoka had chosen him, not the other way ‘round. And both of them were delighted, although Bruck was also more than a little run ragged. 

“I hope I won’t be long,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ll find you after.” Anakin nodded, and trotted off with Bruck, talking about Ahsoka. She’d been good for Anakin too, warm and friendly and non judgmental even when she learned that Anakin had Fallen. She’d just shrugged and demanded lessons on jar’kai, Bruck having begged off on the technique, which he’d never quite mastered. Xanatos gave Obi-Wan a long appraising look, then nodded, and followed the others. Obi-Wan sighed, and continued on toward his quarters

What could it be? Obi-Wan wondered. Anakin had been cleared for duty, they wouldn’t have assigned them this mission otherwise. Perhaps Anu just wanted to talk to him about Anakin’s progress? Although usually he just received a monthly written report, full of vague assurances that Anakin was improving. Obi-Wan could see Anakin’s progress himself though. Anakin was still angry yes, but Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine a world where Anakin wasn’t angry, and with good reason.

His Padawan had grown up enslaved and impoverished. He had a righteous anger, Obi-Wan thought, a will to change the injustices inherent in the universe. And was that such a bad thing? A Jedi’s anger fuelled their compassion. Anakin’s issue was with expressing, or perhaps processing his anger. He couldn’t seem to distill his rage down into the kindness and compassion that the Jedi used to draw on the Force, and it was that which had presaged his Fall.

Approaching his quarters, Obi-Wan sent a text only message to Healer Anu, letting xyr know that Obi-Wan was available. Letting himself in, Obi-Wan set down the pack he’d put together for the mission and fussed about nervously, fluffing the pillows on the sofa and trying to remember what type of seating Anu preferred. Xe was a saurian, although Obi-Wan didn’t know xyr planet of origin, at least half again as tall as Obi-Wan was and with very long claws xe delighted in lacquering in obnoxiously bright colours. 

Anu had a very impressive tail, Obi-Wan remembered, and probably wouldn’t be comfortable in a backed chair. He shuffled the chairs out of the way, rolled out the big, poufy floor pillows that any member of Yoda’s lineage kept on hand for the Grandmaster. Hopefully that would be suitable. With a very decisive nod to himself, Obi-Wan settled on the sofa to worry himself halfway to an apoplexy before Anu rang the chime. 

“Oh good,” Healer Anu said with a thin smile that hid xyr long, sharp teeth as Obi-Wan opened the door. “I was hoping to catch you before you left.” Obi-Wan’s stomach lurched, but he smiled pleasantly and waved Anu into the front room. Xe let out a low sound of approval and settled xyrself on one of the plush floor pillows. Obi-Wan sat tensely on the edge of the couch. 

“Is Anakin not cleared for duty?” Obi-Wan asked worriedly, hands wringing in his lap. “He came up to the platform before we were called back, I assumed he was cleared for duty?”

“Oh, he is. No - I - we should probably stop making assumptions about your Padawan.”

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan murmured. “This sounds quite serious. Tea?” Anu smiled again, but dipped xyr head, letting Obi-Wan temporalize. Obi-Wan puttered into the kitchen, nervously filling the kettle and setting it on the hob, and going through his collection of tea tins three times before deciding on a Korun blend Mace had given him. The warming spices were relaxing, and he had a feeling he’d be needing that extra help shortly.

“I had pulled up some of my previous session notes to reference as I was preparing my monthly progress report on Anakin,” Anu said carefully when Obi-Wan had settled back down after serving them both a cup of hot spiced tea. “As I was reading through though, I noticed that I had made series of notes that seemed to keep slipping my mind when I prepared previous progress reports. It took a concerted effort on my part to ensure that I not only included these observations on my most recent report, but that I made contact with you regarding this issue.”

“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan said again, his voice thinning. “You were - _Forced_ to forget?” he posited worriedly, the emphasis careful but damning. Anu nodded, the tendons in xyr neck bulging beneath xyr fine iridescent green scales, evidencing xyr distress. “Oh dear,” Obi-Wan repeated, setting down his tea cup with a sharp and uncharacteristic _click_. 

“I sat through a rather extensive session with my superior, who found - frankly, we’re not sure what it is,” Anu admitted. “He said it felt like - tendrils, creeping vines, dark and insidious beneath the surface of my thoughts.”

“Insidious?” Obi-Wan asked, eyes narrowing. Anu nodded, not sure why he’d alerted on that word in specific. “An interesting choice of words,” Obi-Wan observed placidly. Anu narrowed xyr eyes in turn. “It is only - the Sith Lord we’re hunting uses the alias Sidious,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “The - coincidence - well, it doesn’t seem terribly coincidental, and you haven’t even led me to the heart of the matter yet.” Anu clenched xyr jaw against the urge to generate venom. Sith. Xe and Healer Klee had suspected, but the confirmation was cold comfort. 

“There is a pattern,” Anu said, xyr voice clipped now, thin and almost hissing with anger. “Anakin had half forgotten himself, but there is a noticeable pattern of spikes in volatility. He is markedly destabilized after meeting, even in passing, with certain individuals. I would strongly recommend that you get your Padawan off Coruscant, and _keep_ him off Coruscant.” Obi-Wan swallowed thickly. 

“I understand certain things are protected under healer-patient confidentiality, even though Anakin is my legal ward, but - can you tell me exactly who the bad actor is?” Obi-Wan asked. Anu’s mouth pressed into a hard line, and xe shook xyr head. 

“We’re not a hundred percent certain ourselves,” Anu admitted, xyr distress palpable in the Force. “Strong suspicion is what we have, not an undeniable accusation.” Obi-Wan sighed, but nodded in acquiescence. Anu shifted, relaxing slightly. Xyr tail softened from the tense curl it had been before. “I have also been meaning to recommend that you join Anakin for a few sessions,” Anu said carefully, and Obi-Wan just as carefully refrained from tensing in utter terror. 

Mind-healers were not the enemy, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Practically every other member of his Lineage saw a mind-healer and benefited from the experience. All the same, Obi-Wan couldn’t completely excise his fear of being seen by a mind-healer himself. They would know then, he was sure, how utterly incompetent he was, how completely unfit for duty. They would take his Padawan, although that was seeming like a possibility regardless, and what was he if not Anakin’s mentor? If not the anchor that Xanatos and Bruck and Dooku had latched themselves to?

“Knight Kenobi?” Anu asked kindly, and Obi-Wan stared up at xyr wide eyed, realizing he had frozen despite his best efforts not to show how apprehensive the idea made him. “We won’t pressure you into seeking help,” xe said gently. “We’d like to speak with you, and we think you would benefit from speaking with us, both individually and with Anakin. But we’re well aware that forcing you would be to no one’s benefit. Please, just think about it?” Obi-Wan nodded, hands trembling faintly as he reached out and clasped them firmly around his tea cup. Anu nodded, then rose from the low cushion xe’d chosen. Obi-Wan rose almost on reflex, bowing slightly in respect. “Force be with you,” Anu said in parting.

“And also with you,” Obi-Wan returned, his voice coming out small and a little lost. “We should be leaving Coruscant shortly. I’ll keep Anakin close until then.” Anu nodded, and let xyrself out of the apartment. Obi-Wan collapsed back into the sofa, leaning forward and putting his head between his knees until he was certain he wasn’t about to start hyperventilating. “ _Fierfek_ ,” Obi-Wan moaned disconsolately, leaning back until he was looking up at the ceiling. 

Tea, Obi-Wan decided after a while. It sure wouldn’t solve anything, but it would just as certainly make him feel better. He dragged himself to his feet and gathered up the cups of tepid tea left from Anu’s visit, then started over. This time he selected a comforting blend from his home planet of Stewjon, almost citrusy flavoured. Carefully he prepared the leaves and warmed the water, counting time as the kettle slowly heated to a boil. 

Setting the teapot on the tray and fetching down a clean cup, Obi-Wan carried the set into the front room and knelt at the low table, grimacing slightly at the way his knees complained. How could one be too young for knee pain and yet feel so very old, Obi-Wan thought, settling on one of the low cushions. He poured himself a cup and stared at it in contemplation. Someone was hurting Anakin, making him more volatile. Obi-Wan shuddered at the implications. It was the Sith, it had to be. And they still didn’t know who Sidious was. Fierfek.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan practices avoidance by way of combat training.

When Obi-Wan had pulled himself back together - three cups of tea and ten minutes of meditation could do wonders - he headed out to look for his Padawan. Given Anakin had gone off with Bruck to find Ahsoka, that likely meant they were in the training salles. Ahsoka was obsessed with the idea of learning jar’kai, and since Bruck wasn’t comfortable with the technique, Anakin and Obi-Wan often got roped into assisting. Not that either of them minded overmuch, she was an excellent student and a quick study, always eager to attempt a new move or technique.

As he had suspected, Obi-Wan found them in one of the larger salles, Anakin demonstrating the jar’kai variations on Djem So while Bruck looked on. Obi-Wan just watched for a moment, seeing the Knight Anakin would soon become. Although nothing was official yet, Obi-Wan was fairly certain that the mission to Dathomir would be one of their last as Master and Padawan, provided Anakin didn’t backslide and draw on the Dark side of the Force. It would be a trial by fire of sorts; from what was recorded in the archives, the Dark side was strong on Dathomir, and the Nightsisters used and abused that aspect of the Force with impunity, their magic not unlike the better documented rites of the Sith.

“Nobes!” Bruck called in greeting, and Obi-Wan straightened from where he had been leaning against the wall near the door, crossing to the others. “Hey ‘Soka, want some flying practice?” Bruck offered, and Obi-Wan groaned but shrugged out of his over robe, anticipating an affirmative answer. Partnered sparring was as much for showing off as practicing partnered maneuvers. 

As a Padawan, Obi-Wan’s skill with the acrobatic Ataru form had made him death from above as Qui-Gon launched him in every direction through both sheer strength and precise application of Force. When he had taken on Anakin, Obi-Wan had been new at Soresu, and he had never quite mastered the timing of being the ‘throwing’ partner. Anakin had, within a few years, been taller than Obi-Wan, and his preferred Djem So meant he made a fairly stable platform for an aerialist. So they had swapped roles, despite that the Master usually played pillar and the Padawan, flyer. But it worked better, and gave Obi-Wan an excuse to keep his acrobatics well practiced. 

“Really?” Ahsoka exclaimed gleefully, her joy ringing through the Force. 

“Yup,” Bruck declared, popping the p for good measure as he fell into the Shien ready stance. Like Obi-Wan he’d become more cautious with age, abandoning the Ataru of their youth even before he was Knighted. Anakin mirrored in Djem So, and Obi-Wan powered on his lightsaber, taking his position at Anakin’s shoulder. Reaching out in the Force, Obi-Wan brushed along their bond, and Anakin welcomed him with a newfound warmth that they’d been missing for years. Obi-Wan sank into it, a quiet joy suffusing him. Anakin moved first, and three moves later, Obi-Wan was vaulting over him to engage with Ahsoka as Bruck and Anakin spun beneath them, blades locked. 

Ahsoka was small and fast and fierce, but no match for Obi-Wan, even when he was using a form that wasn’t as practiced as his preferred Soresu. Bruck disengaged with Anakin and grabbed Ahsoka from beneath Obi-Wan’s blade with a deft application of Force, and they regrouped, Obi-Wan going airborne once more, this time to engage Bruck while Anakin circled to take on Ahsoka on the ground. They went back and forth for some time, retreating and regrouping when overmatched. 

Anakin and Obi-Wan were the more practiced pair, and on a one to one match up, Obi-Wan was a superior swordsman to Bruck, and Anakin easily overmatched Ahsoka, who was still in the learning stages. She’s been a Padawan for a few months, and was learning fast, but it was really no comparison. Anakin might not be an acknowledged Master of Djem So, but he was still excellent at his chosen form, and had the overwhelming strength to make up any deficiencies in skill. It was no surprise to any of them when Obi-Wan overpowered Bruck with a vaulting overhand slash, nor when Anakin disarmed Ahsoka a few moments later. 

“Well fought,” Obi-Wan complimented with a grin, and Bruck grimaced. 

“Thanks, but I understand much better why you lost so much when you first shifted, pillar is such a different mindset from flyer,” Bruck grumbled with a smile. “And you were just starting your Soresu training then too.”

“It was definitely a change,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “Not a bad one though. You have to get used to thinking more defensively now, more strategically. You have someone else depending on you.” He nodded at Ahsoka, who was babbling at a rather bemused looking Anakin.

“Yeah. I - yeah. I know I was a bit of a laserbrain Nobes, but man, you have so much more of my respect now that I know how much work this is. And ‘Soka’s a model Padawan without, you know - a history of enslavement and a cargo hold full of attachment issues. I don’t think I’m allowed to ever criticize you again.”

“Oh, please,” Obi-Wan scoffed, then grew serious, turning to look up at Bruck. “I like hearing your criticism,” he said quietly. “Well - _like_ is the wrong word. But it was useful. Even if I didn’t end up following your advice-”

“Ever,” Bruck cut in.

“Not true, I followed your advice on a couple things,” Obi-Wan said with a smile. “But even if I didn’t, it - it really helped to know what someone else thought, what the situation looked like from the outside. I - I was a mess, and it helped a lot that you were - you were the same as you ever were,” he said with a shrug, and Bruck threw an arm around his shoulders and gave him a rough half hug. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll never change,” Bruck teased, and Obi-Wan was uncertain if that was a threat or a promise. “Alright, showers, then food, then we’ll find out what the Council said about grandmaster’s Padawan,” he announced more loudly. Ahsoka tossed them a jaunty and only somewhat facetious salute, then bounded off toward the lockers.

“She fits in so well,” Bruck said proudly, and Obi-Wan’s only possible response was to laugh and let himself be pulled along to the locker room. Ahsoka was already in a shower stall, happily trilling something traditional from Shili, and even Anakin was quietly smiling. Obi-Wan smiled to himself, and went about his own cleaning up routine. Of the four of them, Obi-Wan was the fussiest about his appearance and took the longest to dress and get ready. 

“So vain,” Anakin teased, and Obi-Wan shot him a mild glare as he finished grooming his hair and beard. 

“Well someone has to look nice, you look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge. Backwards,” Obi-Wan returned dryly but with no real criticism. Anakin had never much cared about appearances, and just shrugged. He was dressed in his usual dark brown tunics and breeches, although he’d left off the leather tabards he was wearing earlier. 

“Grandmaster is cooking,” Bruck announced, breaking up what could have easily become one of Anakin and Obi-Wan’s epic bickering battles. “He says everyone’s attendance is required.” Given that Bruck’s actual grandmaster was Qui-Gon, he meant either Dooku or Yoda, for whom the entire Lineage had taken to using that title interchangeably. Usually though, Yoda got a definite article; he was _The Grand Master_ to the whole Order in official position as well as affectionate exasperation when they weren’t addressing him in person. 

Obi-Wan nodded. He always enjoyed Dooku’s cooking, and meals with the Lineage. Even Anakin was less disdainful now, both because of the non judgemental support he’d received since his Fall, and the unreserved adoration of Ahsoka since she’d subsequently joined the Lineage. Obi-Wan had a feeling that if Anakin had already achieved Knighthood, and Ahsoka were a few years younger, Anakin might have been Ahsoka’s Master rather than Bruck.

“Did he say what he wanted?” Anakin asked. It was a valid question; while Dooku enjoyed company, he didn’t actually cook. He did, on the other hand, order out expansive multi-course meals for the whole lot of them when there was something amiss. Or rather, when he perceived something amiss, or was nervous about their reactions. He’d sent for an extravagant feast to announce that Xanatos would be moving in with him and Yoda, once he and Xanatos started dating. It was a little sad, how relieved Dooku had been when they merely congratulated them and teased a little, but gently. 

“No, just that we were all to come to late-meal at seventh hour,” Bruck said with a shrug. He turned then to Ahsoka, who immediately groaned. She had taken to the stylings of her particular branching of the Lineage, and wore black leggings and boots beneath deep red tunics and black tabards. Her utility belt was black as well. 

“Yes you have to attend your regularly scheduled lessons,” Bruck said with mock severity, and Ahsoka pouted but eventually went off to her classes. She didn’t honestly mind too much; because she was only just past thirteen she was still attending classes with the rest of her clan, most of whom were still Initiates. Barriss, she thought, who was also nearly thirteen, would likely be chosen soon. Knight Unduli had been visiting their creche almost as often as Bruck, and Mirialans tended to select one another.

“So Anu....” Anakin asked leadingly when Bruck had gone off to do - whatever it was he did when not bothering Obi-Wan.

“Says you’re doing very well but shouldn’t be on Coruscant for any extended period of time,” Obi-Wan said. “Conveniently, we have an open ended mission in front of us.”

“We’re just going to Dathomir I thought?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan shrugged. 

“I doubt we’ll find much relevant to our search for information on Maul there,” Obi-Wan admitted. “From what little we know, he left the planet quite young. Anything we do find will likely be a lead elsewhere. I doubt Maul was raised here on Coruscant after all. I’ve had a few vague reports of a child looking like him in the Outer Rim arenas about fifteen years ago, which is the right time frame. I intend to follow up on that. Someone somewhere has to have left a trail, housing or transport or entry fees for the fights. We just have to find it and track it back to the Sith.”

“This is going to be a really boring mission, isn’t it?” Anakin moaned. Obi-Wan shot him an unimpressed look. “Hey, I’m still nineteen, I need to get my excitement _somewhere_.” Obi-Wan chuckled softly at that. “Anu really said I’m getting better though?” Anakin asked after a while, nervous and hopeful. “I mean, xe says that to me, but I don’t know, I thought maybe xe was just placating me or something.”

“You can’t improve if you don’t know how you’re doing,” Obi-Wan reminded. “And we all want you to get better Anakin. Xe said you were improving, and I could sense xyr sincerity.” He reached out, taking Anakin’s elbow. While Obi-Wan craved touch from his friends and family, he had always been hesitant about physical affection with Anakin, not sure if Anakin had been punished physically while enslaved and unsure how to ask. They hadn’t talked a lot about their early mistakes since the revelation of Anakin’s Fall, but Obi-Wan had made himself more available, and Anakin had responded with unabashed pleasure when Obi-Wan initiated gentle touches. 

Anakin tucked Obi-Wan’s hand into his elbow, leading him towards the Room of a Thousand Fountains. It was Anakin’s favorite place in the Temple, the desert child in him still in incredulous awe of that much running water even after a decade with the Order. He knew it was a place with somewhat difficult memories for Obi-Wan, and appreciated even more Obi-Wan’s willingness to accompany him there for joined meditation. There after all was where Bruck had nearly killed Obi-Wan, and also nearly died when Obi-Wan was a young Padawan and Bruck still an initiate. There also had been Qui-Gon’s favorite places to meditate, places inextricably linked in Obi-Wan’s memories with his lost Master. 

They settled in a secluded glade near one of the pools. The pump beneath acted as a spring might in a natural environment, generating a soft burbling sound as the water recycled. Little amphibious life forms croaked and splashed, and insects whirred overhead. Shiny circular leaved water plants floated on the surface, displaying cup-like blossoms in a half hundred glimmering hues. Occasionally, an aquatic surfaced, peering up at them with luminous eyes before disappearing below leaving a trail of bubbles in their wake. 

Obi-Wan settled easily on the grass on his knees, his preferred meditation position with hands held open before him. Anakin took a bit more wiggling about to get comfortable, finally sitting tailor style with legs crossed before putting his holoviewer between them on the grass and taking Obi-Wan’s hands. Obi-Wan smiled gently and settled without instruction into half-trance, opening himself carefully to Anakin. Anakin touched the ‘viewer with the Force, beginning the recorded meditation he’d been assigned, and then grasping hold of Obi-Wan’s Force presence, using that stable and familiar light as an anchor. 

> __
> 
> To begin this practice   
> Let yourself be in a relaxed and comfortable position   
> We’re going to do the practice of cultivating positive emotion   
> In this case, loving kindness   
> Which is the desire for someone to be happy   
> Or yourself to be happy   
> It’s not dependent on something, it’s not conditional   
> It’s just a natural opening of the heart   
> To someone else or to yourself....

_  
_

The recording was soft and soothing, the words recited at a slow, meditative cadence. At first, Obi-Wan had led their joint meditations himself, but he only knew a dozen or so guided meditations. Healer Anu had provided them with these recordings at Anakin’s request, and had complimented him for his thoughtfulness, although Anakin confessed he’d been more bored than concerned for Obi-Wan before it was pointed out to him that he was leaning rather heavily on his mentor. 

Anakin was used to Obi-Wan knowing everything and being hypercompetent; it was such a normal part of Anakin’s life that he honestly didn’t consider the effort that Obi-Wan made to ensure that things went as smoothly as they did. Just that little bit of awareness had been a staggering revelation for Anakin. He had no idea what Obi-Wan’s favorite foods were; Obi-Wan had certainly taken the time to learn to make all of his though, and then to carefully introduce him to the foods of other cultures. In retrospect, Anakin could see a hundred, thousand, million different little ways that Obi-Wan had silently sacrificed for him, and knew that his mentor - because Obi-Wan no longer wished, maybe never _had_ wished to be thought of as Master - his mentor would do it all again in a heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meditation excerpted from the [Loving Kindness Meditation](http://marc.ucla.edu/mindful-meditations) on the UCLA Mindful Awareness Research Center page.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin have late-meal with the rest of the Lineage before finally heading off to Dathomir.

“Tired I am,” Yoda said as they relaxed after late-meal. His voice showed his deep weariness, thin and almost croaking. “Much change there has been. Needed change. And more, needed will be. Old I am. Tired. Change my ways - I fear I cannot. Step down I soon will, and nominate my Padawan to the Council I will.” 

Mace sighed, taking a deep drink of the sweet wine that had been served with sharp cheese at the close of the meal. The others simply stared at Yoda in shock. He had presided over the Order as Grand Master for longer than any of them had been alive. No living Jedi remembered the Jedi High Council without Yoda sitting at its head. And that, perhaps, was the greatest argument for his resignation.

“I’ve told him this is unnecessary,” Jan said wearily. He, like Mace had known this was coming, but he hadn’t even confided in Xanatos about this, hoping to change Yoda’s mind. The idea of gaining power was daunting to him after his Fall. He wanted change, yes, but was uncertain he could handle the responsibility of counselling the Order.

“Change is needed you said, before left the Order you did,” Yoda reminded, pointing sharply at Dooku with his stick. “Changed, _that_ has not. Reconciled you soon will be. Reaffirmed in your vows. Change you will be able to usher in, if a seat on the Council you take.”

“And those who would still name me Sith?” Dooku quarrelled. “Giving me power within the Order will only provide ammunition to those that claim the Order itself is corrupt.”

“Their opinions, they are welcome to,” Yoda said loftily. “Like assholes, opinions are.” Ahsoka, wide eyed, choked over the fruit juice cocktail she had been given in place of wine. Bruck just cackled behind his hand. At the edge of the gathering, even Ventress’ lips twisted into a semblance of a smirk. She had been quiet all evening, watching the rest of the Lineage like a feral lothcat. When Obi-Wan had addressed her, she had drawn even further into the shadows, practically hissing in her wariness. They had wisely left her be since. Eventually she would learn she was one of them, family, but pushing her would do no good.

“I cannot stop you from nominating me,” Dooku finally acquiesced. Yoda grinned toothily in triumph. 

“Much good you will do,” Yoda declared. “Good for the Order it will be. Sticks in mud, we have become. Learned much from Obi-Wan we have, hmmm? Compassion, yes. Wisdom of second chances.” Obi-Wan flushed at that. 

“Grandmaster,” Obi-Wan started, and was hushed in chorus by nearly every other member of the Lineage plus Mace. 

“Learn to take a compliment beloved,” Mace chided gently, his hand resting warmly in the hollow of Obi-Wan’s lower back. “It is true, you’ve taught us much, and much we should have learned sooner, before we had a full blown Sith infestation.”

“I doubt that could have been averted,” Dooku chided heatlessly. “The line of Bane has been preparing their path to power for generations in the shadows. In the absence of visible Sith, we have learned and relearned the lessons of the last war, instead of preparing for the next.” Mace dipped his head in acknowledgement. 

“Wait until from Dathomir you return I will,” Yoda said, nodding at Obi-Wan and Anakin. “Clear, your trip will make some things. Still shadowed, much will be.”

“Dathomir?” Ventress asked sharply, the first time she’d spoken that night save to demand more food. 

“Yes, are you familiar with it?” Obi-Wan asked. Ventress scoffed. 

“I was born there,” Ventress said her tone disdainful. “Feel free to blow it up. They sold me away when I was too young to even know what a home was.” Anakin tensed at that. He had known, they had all known, that slavery was still prevalent that far out from the Core. They had known too that despite Dathomir being embargoed, Dathomiri did make their way off planet on occasion. And yet despite Ventress’ distinctive appearance, none of them had connected her with Dathomir. Obi-Wan reached out gently, rubbing his Padawan’s shoulder. Unbidden, a memory seeped through their bond. 

_Anakin, small and dressed in roughspun, his hair bleached white gold by the sun, and Qui-Gon standing over him, a giant to Anakin’s young eyes. The Jedi seemed a force of nature, some type of mythical creature that had walked in from the deep deserts where the krayt ruled and nothing was impossible._

_“Have you come to free the slaves?” the boy Anakin had been asked, and Qui-Gon, effortlessly, unthinkingly cruel, answered in the negative, no further explanation given._

Obi-Wan shivered slightly, his faded anger at his old Master sparking a little warmer. He could feel Anakin’s anger too, but it was not the volatile rage so oft displayed these past few years. It simmered warm and steady, a useful sort of anger. Anakin was going to stop them. He would destroy the Darkness of the Nightsisters. Obi-Wan sent a quiet sense of patience and encouragement through the training bond, and Anakin steadied a little more, his anger cooling and brightening into purpose.

“Do you know anything else of it?” Obi-Wan asked curiously. 

“Only the rumours the spacers carry,” Ventress admitted disgruntledly. “That it is full of witches and rancors and magic, and no place to stop if you’ve any other option.”

“Joy,” Anakin grumbled, and received a gentle poke in the side from Obi-Wan as a result.

“Perhaps we shall be able to bring a more accurate report,” Obi-Wan said diplomatically, but even Ventress who knew him hardly at all could hear a thread of anxiety in his tone. It sounded, Obi-Wan thought, all too like Melida/Daan, the world abandoned by outsiders as the natives warred for generation upon generation, until a miasma of Darkness was settled across the land, gaining strength with every death.

“Tomorrow,” Yoda said firmly, and with that the party broke up. Despite the mission the next morning, Mace stayed with Obi-Wan that night, although they only slept, taking comfort in proximity and feeling that intimacy enough. They were both early risers, and woke not long after dawn to meditate together. Mace was gone by the time Obi-Wan woke Anakin, and they double checked the bags, ate their first-meal, and headed for the landing platforms. Dooku had offered them use of his Punworcca Solar Sailor, and Obi-Wan accepted gladly. Dathomir was no short hop, and the comfort of a larger ship would be appreciated. 

Once underway in hyperspace, Obi-Wan and Anakin talked carefully and stiltedly, not quite broaching the matters that still troubled Anakin, but approaching them with care. Obi-Wan found himself opening up to his Padawan in ways he hadn’t before; he’d always been driven by perfectionism, and that had lead him to a certain lack of transparency regarding his own troubled history within the Order. Anakin’s long held idealization of Qui-Gon Jinn - and his despair over Obi-Wan’s seeming infallibility - had endured largely because he knew so little of the two Masters. 

While Obi-Wan had loved his Master dearly, long conversations with Mace and Dooku had helped him understand that their pairing while strong had been filled with difficulty, and not only because Qui-Gon really could, as Dooku had said, find trouble in the voids between the stars. To Anakin though, Qui-Gon was a mythic figure who had come striding out of the sands to free him, even if that freedom had separated him from his beloved mother. Qui-Gon was the one who offered the power and prestige of the Order to Anakin, the Council and sometimes Obi-Wan himself playing the role of antagonist in his dreams of returning to Tatooine and freeing all the slaves.

Nothing was truly settled when they dropped back out into realspace over Dathomir, but the air felt clearer between them. It was a little startling to Obi-Wan just how clouded their bond had become over the years. The shroud had slowly settled around them until they were nearly blind to one another, and yet they hadn’t felt the obscurement. Something about it bothered Obi-Wan intensely, and he tucked the thought away for meditation.

“Start scanning for the _Chu’unthor_ , it should be near the coordinates Yoda gave us, but I don’t want to depend on anything,” Obi-Wan directed, reading over their mission parameters again. Anakin nodded, flicking on the long range scanners and programming an expanding search pattern outward from the coordinates. Reaching out with the Force, Obi-Wan did his own scan of the planet; the Force was muddy with Darkness here, but there were little points of Light, not unlike the constellation of Jedi Obi-Wan always carried in his head. _Rell_ Obi-Wan focused, _Rell of the Singing Mountain Clan_. The Force shuddered, and one of the dim stars flared more brightly. 

“So are we going to see the temple Vos demolished?” Anakin asked as they waited on the scanners. Obi-Wan glanced over, mildly amused. 

“That’s what you want to see?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I mean, not the only thing,” Anakin said with a flush of embarrassment. “But I mean - an Infinity Gate, how wizard is that?” Obi-Wan sighed. He’d been quite surprised to find Quin’s report in the ultra classified file on Dathomir. His friend wasn’t always the best at keeping secrets, although Obi-Wan supposed that wasn’t a terribly fair reading. Quin didn’t see the point to secrecy when it didn’t pertain to missions and operational security, and so wasn’t terribly discreet. When it came to matters of life and death and so forth though, there would be few Obi-Wan trusted more than Quinlan Vos. Even if he was an unmitigated asshole sometimes.

“Did you also read the memoirs of Ros Lai?” Obi-Wan asked. It wasn’t strictly required for the mission, and most derided the autobiography as overdramatized fiction. But Quin’s report had mentioned Lai by name, and there were other documents listing her further assistance to the Jedi Order; She had gone to train at the Almas Academy, and was still registered as an adult Padawan there, although it was likely she was approaching Knighthood.

“I did,” Anakin said. “Well, parts of it, where she was fighting and taming rancors and stuff.” Obi-Wan nodded, biting back his amusement. Action was definitely Anakin’s favorite genre, in real life and fiction. “If it really is all true, they’ll be good fighters,” Anakin said more seriously. “The Nightsisters - all of them. What if Rell and the others won’t fight the Nightsisters though? I mean - there are so many more of the other clans, how do the Nightsisters stay in power?”

“I cannot say for certain,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. “I imagine though it is similar to Sith Empires and such of the past. The truly cruel take power because they are unconcerned with what they must do to gain and then maintain that power. The kind and compassionate are subjugated through that cruelty, and through their own unwillingness to take action in ways they deem immoral. In some ways, that is part of the reason that Jedi are often called in; while we are compassionate, we are not subject to the same moral code as others, or in this case, as that which might be imposed on a Daughter of Allya.”

“That is how the Sith is able to gain power now, though,” Anakin said carefully. “Because we do not act against him.”

“A correct, if incomplete, assessment,” Obi-Wan said, the compliment drawing the sting of the criticism. “We do not know the true name of the Sith, and as such cannot act against him save by foiling those plans we are able to uncover, as with the clones. From grandmaster’s implications, even once we know our enemy by name, to act prematurely would be to invite destruction.”

“Sounds fun,” Anakin sassed, and Obi-Wan treated him to an eyeroll. “So what will happen to Ventress?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan was saved from answering by a _blip_ from the scanner. Just as well, since he hadn’t the slightest idea. Yoda had said that Dooku would be Reconciled to the Order and reaffirmed in his vows, so it followed that Ventress would be accorded the status of Jedi Padawan. For now though, they had a witch to question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be visiting my parents and their spotty wifi for a week, so there may be a longer wait for the next chapter depending on how much I feel like fighting with their router.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin finally make it to Dathomir, and find they are expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now we get to the parts of this story where your author has been doing deep dives into wookieepedia. My exposure to canon has been through the movies and the Clone Wars animated series, CGI version. So my whole impression of Dathomir prior to reading everything on wookieepedia was ‘not fun place, don’t go there’. Parts of this were - really awkward to write. As a woman, I really want to like a society that is clearly matriarchal and fully of females who aren’t going to take anyone’s shit. However, those females are also perpetrating an institutionally sexist system, with the males being severely restricted if not outright enslaved. Which I have a lot of problems with. And so do Obi-Wan and Anakin.

“We’ve been expecting you,” a tall, slender female said from atop her massive semi-domesticated rancor. There was no question this was one of the so called Witches of Dathomir, Daughters of Allya. Like Ventress, she had pale greyish skin, but where Ventress had bright blue eyes almost indistinguishable from a human’s, this Dathomirian boasted the dark sclera of her Zabrak heritage with almost luminous silver-grey irises. Her hair was black, her hairline at the crest of her head, the hair dressed back into a long tail to keep it out of her face. She wore brilliantly red garb, and on her rancor was a sigil like a line of three repeated xeshes. 

The greeting did not set Obi-Wan at ease, although he doubted it was meant to. _Great_ , he heard Anakin murmur behind him, and silently agreed. The Kaminoans had greeted him similarly, and that trip - well, it was a minor miracle that it had ended as well as it did, and it still resulted in the Separatists calling for war _(not that they weren’t almost always calling for war, but that trip to Geonosis definitely could have sparked things off if it had gone differently)_. 

“I am Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, this is my Padawan, Jedi Anakin Skywalker,” Obi-Wan introduced, hinting quite broadly he would appreciate a name. The female grinned broadly, showing all of her very white and slightly pointed teeth. 

“I’m Ooya, come now. Old Mother Rell is waiting,” she demanded, and patted the back of her beast. Obi-Wan half turned to Anakin, who looked at him incredulously. Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, and Anakin let out a half stifled groan of dismay. With that, Obi-Wan smiled, and vaulted up behind Ooya. She giggled softly, wiggling against him. “Hmmm, maybe I’ll claim you,” Ooya all but purred. 

“I don’t think my lover would much appreciate that,” Obi-Wan said mildly, and then Anakin was landing behind him. 

“Flirting, Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan huffed, rolling his eyes. “You shouldn’t be offended Miss Ooya, he flirts with _everyone_.”

“I don’t know why you must persist in spreading this abominable rumour,” Obi-Wan groused. “I do _not_ flirt with everyone.”

“He does,” Anakin said with a smile.

“No, I’m simply polite, and use my manners,” Obi-Wan chided, and Ooya laughed with delight, guiding her rancor into motion. Mother Rell hadn’t warned them that Jedi were like _this_. The rancor bounded forward, jostling her passengers. Ooya, used to the lurching motion, adjusted without thought. Obi-Wan, who had never ridden a rancor but had some almost as unbelievable adventures as a Padawan, settled into the motion quickly, although not without using a hand on Ooya’s waist to balance himself, which earned him a wink and a saucy smile over her shoulder. Anakin just plastered himself to Obi-Wan’s back and held on for dear life.

Obi-Wan was vaguely nauseous when he unwound Anakin’s arms from his waist and jumped down from the rancor. He could feel Anakin’s utter dismay clearly, and a moment later Anakin leaned over and vomited, then slumped off the rancor with a rather pitiable moan. The gathered Dathomiri women, utterly unimpressed, laughed. 

“He is unused to riding,” Obi-Wan offered, and Ooya stroked a hand up his chest to tug gently his beard. Obi-Wan crossed his arms only slightly defensively and raised an eyebrow. Ooya let out a husky chuckle at that. 

“It is fine, no one will claim him as a husband this way,” Ooya said. “Although that means I’ll have more competition for you,” she practically purred. 

“My lover really won’t be pleased if I come home married my dear,” Obi-Wan said, and Ooya tittered, then backed away, crooking her finger for Obi-Wan to follow. 

“Come, the Mothers are waiting,” Ooya insisted, and Obi-Wan nodded, glancing back for Anakin. His Padawan had managed to to stagger closer, but still looked rather worse for the wear. 

“Alright?” Obi-Wan asked gently, reaching up to rest his hand on Anakin’s shoulder and gently infuse the touch with healing energy. Anakin almost visibly perked up as he nodded. 

“I’ll be fine so long as I don’t have to do _that_ again any time soon,” Anakin grumped. 

“I hate to be the one to break it to you-”

“I knoooooow,” Anakin moaned, _thunk_ ing his head onto Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Stupid rancors.” 

“At least it’s not gundarks?” Obi-Wan offered, and Anakin groaned. “There there,” he comforted, patting Anakin’s shoulder and rubbing the nape of his neck. “You’ll get better at it. I hope. For now though, I’m told the Mothers are waiting.”

“Oh goody,” Anakin moaned, and made a valiant effort at standing upright and straightening his tunics. Obi-Wan smiled and clapped him on the shoulder, then led the way after Ooya, who was waiting impatiently at the mouth of a rather large cave. 

“Didn’t I say they were waiting?” Ooya asked, obviously not impressed with having to wait on them. Any sign of her earlier flirtatiousness was gone. Obi-Wan dipped his head in silent apology, and with a huff, she turned on her heel and strode forward, her brilliant red-orange garb fluttering behind her like wings. 

“Sorry,” Anakin mumbled under his breath, and Obi-Wan sent reassurance through their bond. 

“Just be mindful,” Obi-Wan murmured, then paused, “not mindful-mindful, kriff, you know what I mean. Considerate? Polite? Respectful? Cognizant?”

“I’ve got it Obi-Wan,” Anakin said bemusedly before Obi-Wan could delve deeper into the thesaurus he had evidently programmed into his frontal lobe. Mindfulness, the method other Jedi used to commune with the Force, Healer Anu had explained, likely wasn’t terribly helpful to Anakin, whose connection to the Force was already so strong. It wasn’t hurtful, it just - didn’t bring him the same sort of peace unless he was psychically linked with someone else’s meditation.

Their chatter cut out as they entered a large cavern. While the original cave might have been naturally occuring, it was clear that a great deal of effort had been expended to modify what nature provided. Tall pillars of live stone ascended into the shadows above, and the walls were squared and smoothed, forming a large septagonal space with seven large support columns. There must have been vents hidden in the distant ceiling, because despite that torches and fires burning, the air was clean and almost sweet smelling. Broad corridors opened off the main cavern, and Ooya led them down one, taking a torch in hand as she walked deeper into the catacombs.

Their path twisted and turned, other corridors opening off the one they traversed. Finally though, Ooya stepped through an open doorway and bowed deeply, then gestured Obi-Wan and Anakin to enter. Within sat seven women, all clearly older than Ooya. The eldest was barely taller than Yoda and stooped with age, her visible skin wrinkled so deeply her features were all but obscured. She was swathed in deep red fabric, only her wispy white hair, prune-like face, and gnarled hands showing. This, Obi-Wan was almost certain, would be Mother Rell. 

“Mothers,” Ooya introduced. “Jedi have come as you have foreseen.” She turned, glancing back at the Jedi. “This is Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker. Jedi, these are the Mothers of Singing Mountain Clan, Mother Augwynne Djo, Azzeneth, Duana, Rell, Telene, Mighella, and Juryn. Clanmother Augwynne is currently head of the Mothers Council.” Augwynne nodded to them in greeting. She was younger than the other mothers, and more human looking with pale peachy skin and long blonde hair starting to silver at the temples. The others, more distinctly Dathomirian in appearance, had greyer skin, ranging from the pale ash-grey similar to Ventress to a deeper charcoal grey. Most, like Ooya, also had the darkened sclera of their Zabrak ancestors.

“Mothers,” Obi-Wan greeted with a deep, elegant bow. They murmured softly, and Obi-Wan could feel the Force stir. It was, he thought, not unlike standing before the Jedi High Council. 

“Handsome,” one of the mothers said in a dry wispy voice, and then cackled in amusement. Obi-Wan merely smiled politely. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t already claimed him Ooya,” one of the others piped up, her tone rich with amusement. 

“He claims he has a lover, and Skywalker is just a boy,” Ooya said dismissively, and Obi-Wan felt Anakin bristle. 

_Let it go_ , Obi-Wan urged mentally, knowing that Anakin couldn’t hear him. By the time Anakin had come to the Temple, his mind had no longer been plastic in the right way to easily adopt such mind to mind communication. Most Jedi formed a subtle webwork of psychic bonds as Younglings in the creche, some of which were later deepened into pair-bonds when age-mates were assigned on joint missions. For Anakin though, his only mental bond was their training bond, which he routinely blocked or ignored. 

The training bond was fairly strong in and of itself, but despite its strength the bond wasn’t well developed. Anakin, due to his strength, could almost always sense Obi-Wan’s general emotions and mindset, but didn’t always know how to make sense of those things, since Jedi generally had different mental processes than those of the other beings. Anakin’s early mental development out in the wide world would have had him learning how to process the emotions and mentalities of non-Jedi, and how to think and feel like a non-Jedi as well.

“Master Yoda sends his greetings,” Obi-Wan said politely, and the withered little woman who had been identified as Rell straightened slightly. Her thistledown hair and wrinkled skin were pale as milk, her irises a rheumy blue set in silvery sclera. 

“Know this name, I do,” Rell said, her voice thin and wavering. Obi-Wan kept his face perfectly bland even as he felt Anakin’s presence burst with amusement. “Jedi hmmmm. Come for your records you have. A service we are owed. Guarded these things for many years, we have.”

“We have not been directed to retrieve the recordings, but if you believe the time is right to end the tyranny of the Nightsisters once and for all, you know the situation best Mother,” Obi-Wan said carefully. “We come searching for information about a Dathomirian called Maul. Twenty years or so a man would have come here, and took away with him an infant Nightbrother, Zabrak in appearance, red and black.”

“Nightbrothers,” Ooya hissed with clear dislike. “Foul creatures.”

“Maul is dead,” Obi-Wan assured her flatly. “I killed him myself. But the man who took him is, or perhaps knows of, the identity of a Sith Lord who endangers every being in this galaxy.”

“It is him,” one of the other Mothers said with certainty. “He is the reason we are all trapped here.” 

“He fears my daugher Gethzerion,” Mother Augwynne said wearily. “And he is right to. It was she who attempted to wake the Infinity Gate, and drew the Jedi here last. While her failure saw her lose power, she is a danger still, one of the strongest witches Dathomir has ever produced, and she has drawn powerful acolytes to her as well. Her protege, Talzin, is now the Clanmother of the Nightsisters.”

“Time it is,” Rell said, her wavering voice silencing the others. “Too long it has been. Shifting, the Force is.” Obi-Wan felt his eyebrows trying to creep up his forehead, and sternly kept his face placid and bland. “Foreseen it I have, now, or another generation we must wait. Too long that may be.”

“For now, we will house you and call to the other clans,” Mother Augwynne said. “Ooya, find them a place to stay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xesh is the Aurabesh letter x, but looks like the Greek letter delta - an equilateral triangle, resting on one of the flat sides.
> 
> Ooya is a named, canon Dathomirian witch of Singing Mountain Clan, whose very brief wookiepedia entry does note that she is ‘forward,’ so I imagined she might be a prime candidate for flirting with Obi-Wan, not that the others don’t flirt just as much.
> 
> There was a post going around tumblr regarding how useful (or not) certain types of meditation were for some people and I thought this might be a helpful way to think about Anakin’s trouble with meditation. Not all brains are built the same, and the way most Jedi meditate just isn’t going to work for our boy.
> 
> Late verbalization and Force communication among Jedi Younglings inspired by Give me Cookies by SWModdy. I love this idea and have adopted it into my own bank of headcanons.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On Dathomir Obi-Wan is beginning to realize that the darkness enveloping the planet feels all too familiar, as if he’s been in Darkness for years but never realized. But how can that be? There is a Sith yes, and surely that is impactful, but how - how can it be that the Force on Dathomir, rank with Darkness, feels so very like home, like Coruscant a galaxy away?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back home, so posting should continue on the regular schedule of whenever I feel like it ;)

“How can you meditate here?” Anakin asked after late-meal that first night on Dathomir, watching as Obi-Wan settled on his knees in the position he preferred for communion with the Force. “The Force is -” he paused, not sure how to verbalize his discomfort. This planet set his every instinct on edge, the ambient energies off-putting and strange. 

“It is muddied, yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, nodding. “The generations of Darkness have taken their toll here, corrupting the Force. Death is a part of life, yes, but here, death is something more sinister, a currency to gain power. Dathomir is bleeding.” 

“It’s different than the Sith Temple though,” Anakin said thoughtfully, referring to a mission a year or so previous. 

“There were many more Sith on Korriban than there have ever been witches on Dathomir, and the majority of the witches are not Darksiders even by the strict definition most Jedi would use,” Obi-Wan said, remembering how the intensity of the Dark side had all but incapacitated Anakin on the Sith homeworld. They had worked extensively on Anakin’s shielding since then, and hopefully his ability to function here on Dathomir was proof that those lessons had taken. Obi-Wan hummed thoughtfully, reaching for the Force. 

“It’s more than that though,” Obi-Wan said in that distant tone Anakin knew meant that Obi-Wan was half on another plane. “As we came in to land, I reached out, scanning the planet,” he said, pausing, carefully organizing what he wanted to say to ensure he spoke accurately. “The Force is Dark here, yes, corrupted. But there is still hope, there is still Light. It takes but a single candle to turn back the night, a single spark to ignite and burn away the Dark, and the other clans, those who use the Light, have been quietly tending their flames for generations. And also - when I reached out,” Obi-Wan hesitated again, but the Force nudged him gently onwards. 

“The Force here feels uncannily similar to that on Coruscant,” Obi-Wan said. “On both planets, there is a high concentration of Force users. And on both planets, there is a source of Darkness, a being who willfully encourages the corruption of the Force for their own gain. We know from what grandmaster has been able to tell us that the Sith is either in the Senate or has very close ties to that body. The Force here does feel distressing. I would argue though that part of what is so unnerving is the sheer _familiarity_ of the Darkness that surrounds us here.” 

Anakin shivered at the thought. While he was handling this excursion better than Korriban, he too remembered his reaction to the Darkness there. It had been overwhelming. This was less so, although he knew that he had also grown both stronger and more skilled in the year that had passed since that mission. Korriban had been a dead world though, he and Obi-Wan the only two sparks of Light that remained in a veritable well of Darkness. Here, while more chaotic, the Darkness was - thinner somehow, like a veil that could be torn away. And here too were the more benevolent witches, a thousand thousand points of light, small but strong, and as the Dark faded they would only burn brighter. 

“Meditate with me,” Obi-Wan suggested, and Anakin wavered, then nodded, plopping down in front of Obi-Wan and getting comfortable. Obi-Wan extended his hands, and Anakin could already feel the Force gathering around them, warm and welcoming as it always was when he meditated with Obi-Wan. That bit of familiarity helped Anakin ease into communion with the Force, Obi-Wan’s soft voice guiding him in one of their now familiar meditations.

Like this, buoyed in the eddies of the Force, Anakin could see the corruption more clearly. Obi-Wan once more envisioned the planet as a web of dim stars shadowed further by the corruption of the Dark side of the Force. Anakin caught a glimpse of it, and although he usually perceived Force presences in terms of temperature rather than light, Anakin understood that this was Obi-Wan’s perception, his mind’s way of comprehending the ineffable energy that bound and enveloped all creation. And like this too, Anakin could understand the similarity to Coruscant. Even as he began to understand, he felt Obi-Wan’s affirmation.

“Can you feel it?” Obi-Wan asked in that warm but distant voice. “While there is Darkness here, it is - _induced_ \- for lack of a better term. There is an unnatural corruption at work.” Anakin agreed nonverbally, letting his affirmation wash along their bond. 

“Could we not trace the Darkness back to it’s source?” Anakin asked, and Obi-Wan’s presence - it was hard to describe. Anakin caught flares of curiosity and optimism and quiet pride. 

“An excellent thought my dear,” Obi-Wan praised. The Force swelled around them as Obi-Wan reached out, and Anakin rode along. While he could access the Unifying Force, as evidenced by his visions of his mother, Anakin was more aligned with the here and now mentality of the Living Force, leading him to often act with recklessness of which he knew Obi-Wan despaired. The Force opened before them. 

_Look, look, look,_ the Force seemed to whisper, and a face flashed through both their minds, a Dathomiri woman with blood-crimson eyes and skin faded to translucent white, swathed in the darker reds of an elder and wearing a massive shaman’s headdress. For a split second another face was superimposed over that of the Nightsister who could only be Mother Gethzerion; it was human and male, peachy-pale skinned and wrinkled, face half hidden in the shadows of a deep cowl. It was too fast a flash for identification, but Obi-Wan was certain in that moment that he recognized their nemesis. An aching chill and utter absence of light engulfed them then, and Obi-Wan hurriedly brought them out of meditation, both Jedi gasping with exertion. 

“That - that was the Sith Lord,” Anakin choked out, and Obi-Wan nodded, shuddering visibly before steadying himself. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed verbally. “Let us hope he has not seen us.” A shiver raced up Anakin’s spine at the prospect. 

“Let’s,” Anakin agreed weakly, and Obi-Wan’s warm, familiar Force presence surrounded him once more, bolstering and buoying. With Obi-Wan’s presence came Light, and Anakin was as ever in awe of the ease with which his mentor drew on the Unifying Force that extended back unto the moment of creation and forward and forward and forward into a dizzying number of forevers. The increased meditation he had been doing with Obi-Wan allowed Anakin to fall more easily than ever into the Force and join him in that Light, letting go of the fear and trusting that they would be able to rout the corruption at the heart of their galaxy. 

“Better?” Obi-Wan asked gently when they returned to regular consciousness, reaching out to rest his hand on Anakin’s shoulder. 

“Better,” Anakin said with a slight smile. He turned away shortly though, still preoccupied with the Darkness veiling both this world and Coruscant. Obi-Wan made a quiet, inquisitive sound, but didn’t press, as always waiting for Anakin to open up. Now that he understood a little better that this was part of how Obi-Wan respected Anakin’s personal autonomy, Anakin felt less frustrated at his mentor’s reticence. “How can you trust that I won’t Fall again?” Anakin asked, his voice not as strong as he would have liked. “Especially here, where the Dark is so strong? So pervasive?”

“I have _always_ trusted you Anakin,” Obi-Wan said gently. “You’ve slipped, and yes, Fallen. But you are no Sith. There is no absolution I can give you for what happened on Tatooine. That is not something that is within my power to forgive. But I can give you my trust, and I do that willingly. I do so because I remember a little boy who was infuriated at the practice of slavery, a boy incensed at the injustice of even a single sentient unable to determine their own path, and that fury, that white hot passion that is in you yet - it is rooted in compassion for your fellow beings, rather than a craving for power. 

“I think you _do_ desire power, I think that may be a danger to you, but I trust that you will grow to understand that all the power in the universe cannot stop evil, cannot prevent the pain and death of those we love. There will always be evil; corruption, call it what you will,” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully. “But I think that for the most part, that craving, that ambition in you, that desire for power, is not for your own gain. 

“You do not desire power as an end, I think, but as a means to right the injustices rife in the galaxy. And so you must learn to set that ambition aside, and fight those iniquities with compassion alone. I cannot tell you how to do that, it is something you must come to understand for yourself. But I will be with you Padawan mine, every step of the way,” Obi-Wan promised. Anakin flushed at that, and turned away for a moment before lurching forward to tug Obi-Wan into an awkward hug. Obi-Wan let out a soft sigh, then gently embraced Anakin in turn. 

“You are so very strong Anakin, you cannot know how very proud I am of you, and always have been. I shall do better about telling you though,” Obi-Wan promised, rubbing Anakin’s back. “Dathomir will be a test. A trial. But the thing we rarely mention is that each day is a trial. Each morning we Jedi wake, and when the Dark reaches for us, we say _not today_. And we reach instead for compassion. For kindness.” 

“You’re impossible,” Anakin complained dolefully. 

“So I’ve been told,” Obi-Wan smiled, patting Anakin on the back and extricating himself. “Come along. We’ve eaten, we’ve meditated. Bed time.” Anakin rolled his eyes, but complied, and was soon curled next to Obi-Wan in the bed, sleepily wondering what the next day would bring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mission and Sith Temple Anakin mentions I only know of from wookiepedia


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War looms on Dathomir.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon ages for the Opress brothers were unclear, so as is author's prerogative, I made shit up.
> 
> edited 09/17/2017 because i hadn't checked an image and gave Feral the wrong skin color. he's now described as he appears in canon with yellow/green skin and black tattoos.

It took a few days for representatives of the other clans to arrive at the Singing Mountain Clan encampment, even riding their swift-footed rancor beasts. Obi-Wan and Anakin spent the time exploring and meditating and speaking with Mother Rell, the only one of the witches old enough to remember when the _Chu’unthor_ had fallen blazing from the sky, the Force a screaming wound around the crippled ship. Anakin also called the Temple daily to continue his talks with Healer Anu, and Obi-Wan checked in every so often with Mace and the Council.

Ooya and some of the other younger witches were constantly underfoot, flirting, much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin. They seemed to view his disinterest in a sexual relationship as a challenge rather than a refusal. Anakin found it highly amusing, although it was a bit of a blow to his ego, especially as none of them were interested in him in the least, not that he found any of the witches particularly attractive, or so he claimed. Obi-Wan had a feeling that if interest had been expressed in Anakin, he might think otherwise.

One day though, two sisters of the Frenzied River Clan arrived, and soon after three Scissorfists Clan members. Each day there were more visitors, and the quiet rumbling began to grow louder. Now was the time, the Mothers promised. Now was the moment. Quietly more and more witches arrived, and then, even more quietly, male Dathomirians crept in from the shadows. Unlike the Dathomirian females, who ranged in appearance from almost full human to nearly Zabrak, the males tended to exhibit their Zabrak ancestry more clearly, most boasting full crowns of horns. 

Some Dathomirian males had red-brown skin, some browner, some redder, others yellower or even almost green. None though, boasted the black markings Maul had. This, Obi-Wan learned, was a strict identifier of the subjugated Nightbrothers, who were all but enslaved to their sister-clan, and who were tattooed as children when they were taken from their mothers. The tattoos generally marked clan and lineage, but the marks were also magically imbued in ways that the other witches didn’t fully understand, as the markings were attuned to the Dark and therefore proscribed by the Book of Law left to them so many years ago by Greatmother Allya, the first witch of Dathomir.

There were disputes as the camp filled with outsiders, members of various clans broaching age old feuds and longstanding arguments. Obi-Wan ended up mediating a great many disagreements of varying degree of intensity and violence. The braver sisters of the gathered clans went out scouting day after day, returning with information about the Nightsisters fortress and camps, for while they were all referred to as Nightsisters, there was more than one clan of Dark worshiping and utilizing witches, all gathered under the direction of Mother Talzin. 

For the witches, the coup of the reconnoitering missions was when a sister of Dreaming River Clan coerced a Nightbrother youngling from a nearby settlement to speak with the gathering of clans. The little Zabrak-looking Dathomiri couldn’t be more than eleven or so, his horns barely budding from his skull, voice still high and a bit squeaky. Beneath his stark black tattoos, he had brilliantly yellow-green skin, and his name, he said, was Feral Opress. His older brother Savage, he claimed, was the best warrior in their village, and would likely be chosen as a mate by a Nightsister. 

When Feral returned the next night, Savage was with him. Obi-Wan could easily see how the Zabrak might be an acclaimed warrior. Savage was tall and lithely muscled, with a full crown of sharp looking horns. His yellow-green skin was heavily tattooed over his chiseled physique, and Obi-Wan could feel the Force roiling around him more strongly than any of the others he’d met so far save Mothers Rell and Augwynne. 

Savage spoke quietly, his voice low but firm. The Nightbrothers, he said, would follow him if he commanded them to march against the Nightsisters. But they would likely also die in large numbers. Their only weapons were the staffs they carved themselves, and while they were skilled with those weapons, they were no match for the Nightsisters’ plasma bows. The other witches with their trained Force abilities and rancor mounts could match the Nightsisters, but the enslaved males had little chance. 

Rather to Obi-Wan’s disgust, the witches scoffed and sneered dismissively at the idea of the Nightbrothers dying. Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s echoing dismay, and the roiling Force presences that were Feral and Savage clearly conveyed their anger and disappointment. Standing from the gathering of witches, Obi-Wan followed Savage from the hall when the Nightbrother stalked off, and when Savage whirled to face him, staff lacing out, Obi-Wan deftly caught the shaft of the staff, holding on despite the stinging in his hands from absorbing the power of the hit. Savage’s eyes widened and he grunted, posture shifting into wariness from outright aggression. 

“Peace Savage,” Obi-Wan said, releasing his grip on the staff once it looked like Savage was willing to listen. “I would not have you freed from the Nightsisters only to have you enslaved by others.” After an appraising moment, Savage nodded, withdrawing his weapon. A moment later, Feral smacked into Savage’s side, clinging to his older brother. There was a large age difference between them, but it was clear they cared for one another deeply. “Please, how can we help?”

“Let us fight,” Savage said. “Not the younglings like Feral, but let those of us who are old enough and strong enough fight. We have suffered most against the Nightsisters. They have claimed our strongest as _breeders_ for generations, although the other witches are little better on that accord. But let us fight. Let us decide our own destiny.”

“And what would you have happen to the Nightsisters?” Obi-Wan asked curiously. The two Nightbrothers had been steeped in Darkness their whole lives, and yet they did not feel like Darksiders. The Force was strong with them, but not corrupted in the way it had been around Ventress, around Anakin even when his rage ran high in him. 

“The Mothers - they die,” Savage said firmly, but there was no anger or hatred in the declaration. “Mother Talzin, Gethzerion, the others like them. They are - corrupt. Wrong. Evil,” Savage said, his voice almost sad, but firm. “The younger sisters, they might be saved, retrained if they joined the other clans.” Obi-Wan nodded. It was perhaps the most merciful solution, although he knew that many would likely die in the fighting.

“You mentioned before that the Nightsisters would come on foot?” Anakin asked when silence had fallen once more. Savage grinned broadly, a predator’s smile, full of sharp teeth. 

“The rancors hate the Nightsisters,” Savage said with undimmed glee. “A rancor is no dumb beast, they warn each other away from Nightsisters, because the Nightsisters treat them like they _are_ dumb beasts. They abuse the few they manage to claim from the wild, but they never keep them long; they run away and kill their riders. Most Nightsisters never make the attempt.” Anakin and Obi-Wan nodded, neither of them terribly surprised.

“And the Nightbrothers?” Obi-Wan asked curiously. “How do the rancors feel about them?” Rancors might be semi-sentient, but like most animals they were good judges of character, despite being ruthless predators. 

“None of us have ever attempted to ride one,” Savage said. “We could not hide such a thing from the Nightsisters, and it would bring ruin on the village.” Obi-Wan nodded, seeing the wisdom in that. 

“It is your prerogative to fight,” Obi-Wan said, reaching out and gently squeezing Savage’s biceps. “But I make no promises as to the treatment you will receive from the witches.” 

Savage nodded at that, and the next night when they sat down to war council, Savage appeared from the shadows with a dozen Nightbrothers at his back and Feral at his side. Feral, with the reckless bravery of innocence, planted himself in Obi-Wan’s lap and began fiddling with a carved toy his big brother had made for him. Obi-Wan looked down bemusedly, then stroked the curve of Feral’s skull, hugged the child, and went back to planning. Savage, who had crept close in case intervention was necessary, breathed a sigh of relief. 

Feral fell asleep part way through the meeting, and Obi-Wan deftly turned the child on his lap, letting him sleep on, head resting against Obi-Wan’s chest. Savage, who had settled into a crouch at Obi-Wan’s side, couldn’t help but wonder how a male could retain such kindness, such softness. Life on Dathomir made one hard, it was necessary to survive there. And he could see the strength in Obi-Wan too, but he had never seen such compassion towards one of his kindred, and it fed a hope in him that he’d never before acknowledged. He could be free. He could determine his own fate.

Each night after that, more Nightbrothers showed up from far flung villages. Their stark black tattoos identified their lineages and skills, and about a week after Savage first arrived, there were almost as many brothers of various clans as sisters. That was the night Savage showed up riding a rancor. The witches flew into a furore; none of them had even conceived of the idea of a male having the skill, patience, or ability to bond with a rancor. Savage’s mount was young, yes, but fierce, and the other males crowded around in wonder, showering the rancor with praise and patting her leathery hide. 

Previously, Obi-Wan and Anakin had been accepted to the war council despite their gender because they were off worlders, exceptions to the matriarchal rule of Dathomir. With Savage’s growing influence, the witches began to quietly spread whispers about him. This was a son of Talzin the said. This was the blood of the Dark Mother. Savage said nothing, only seethed. 

“You slander me,” Savage finally said one night as they planned, his low voice breaking a lull in the meeting. “You slander me because you do not like the change that could follow behind me. My brother was taken from us when he was an infant. Given away because my mother would prefer to never see him again than see him grow up a slave to the Nightsisters. But they are not the only witches. And the Nightbrothers are not the only slaves. If I make you uncomfortable, look to your own actions. Who among you has hands that are clean? Do not pretend you fight the Nightsisters for our sake, or any sake but your own. You fight them because they have broken covenant with Greatmother Allya, broken their faith in the Book of Law. I fight them because they have killed one of my brothers already, and would see me a slave all of my days.”

“The Sith Empire was built on the backs of slaves,” Anakin said, his Force presence Darker than Obi-Wan would like, but compassionate yet. It was an almost non sequitur, but the witches understood that he compared them to one of their ancient enemies. They might not be Jedi themselves, but they were descended from a Jedi, and Greatmother Allya, even when she had Fallen herself, retained an innate abhorrence of the Sith. To compare the witches with such beings struck them deeply, and more over, the Force rang through Anakin, ensuring that all listened, that all _understood_. Despite their adherence to the Book of Law, the witches of Dathomir trode a perilous path.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the end, all their planning and squabbling was for naught.

In the end, all their planning and squabbling was for naught. One of the higher ranked Nightsisters decided unilaterally to take Savage as her mate, and Savage emphatically refused, knowing well that a successful mating would end in his death. The Nightsister in question attempted to use something like a Force suggestion on Savage, and he resisted. The altercation turned physical, and soon the entire village was in revolt. Feral, thinking on his feet, scrambled to the next village of Nightbrothers, then the next, then the next. The liberation of Dathomir began not as the organized assault they had planned, but as a slave uprising.

When Feral finally arrived at the war camp with an underfed, foot sore, and eager to fight army of freedom-seeking Nightbrothers at his back, the other males in the camp defied the cautioning of the witches who had for generations treated them only marginally better than the enslaved Nightbrothers. The younger sisters of the clans, those without the prestige to be granted access to mates or other symbols of success, joined swiftly with the brothers, and Anakin was at the head of the pack storming toward the Nightsister stronghold.

For all that he wished to scold Anakin for his impetuousness, Obi-Wan didn’t have it in him to castigate his Padawan for wanting to help the Nightbrothers free themselves. After all, despite his much more limited experience with the practice, Obi-Wan too had a bone deep abhorrence of slavery. He might not have been on the front line himself, but he was soon in the depths of the fighting, ensuring that he and Anakin as some of the most heavily armed combatants took on the most powerful Nightsisters. 

Of course, it was this type of strategy that eventually, inevitably, saw them separated in the fighting. While Obi-Wan’s preferred style of battle was well illustrated by the fact that he used the endurance form for lightsaber combat, Anakin wasn’t quite so defensive-minded. If anything, Anakin’s method of operation usually seemed to be ‘attack first, questions later.’ It had occasionally worked to his advantage in the past, but not often enough for Obi-Wan’s liking. And as they advanced, without plan or formation on the Nightsisters stronghold, that recklessness again worked against Anakin.

The plasma bolts the Nightsisters shot from their bows were as painful as a blasterbolt, and since they fired silently and aimed with the Force, much more difficult to avoid. One struck Anakin in the meat of his sword arm, and his pain seared through the bond with Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan grunted softly, shifting his focus slightly. Drawing on the Force, Obi-Wan shifted from defense to attack, launching himself deeper into the fray, searching out his Padawan. When he arrived at Anakin’s side, Obi-Wan found his Padawan still fighting, but wielding his lightsaber with his off hand. 

Soon they were back to back, protecting one another’s flanks by habit and intuition. Obi-Wan slid back into Soresu, reflecting the Nightsisters’ bolts back at them. Those who came against Anakin and Obi-Wan on the field of battle that day almost uniformly perished, and their allies soon noted that, forming up behind and alongside the two Jedi. That day, the battle ended with impasse. As evening settled over the killing fields, they gathered their dead. Nightbrothers cremated their dead, as did most of the other clans. Nightsisters practiced mummification, their dead sewn up in skins with a great deal of ritual. 

Wounded rancors called and cried, and Obi-Wan went to one after another, touching their minds with the Force, and either healing them enough to rise if he was able, or giving them a quick death. Many of them had once been mounts of the Nightsisters, the other witches taking better care with their bonded beasts. So it was that he arrived at the camp that night with a half dozen wounded but walking rancors, and riding the seventh. Anakin just rolled his eyes. For all the tales he’d been told as a junior Padawan about Qui-Gon’s habit of collecting pathetic lifeforms, Anakin was sure Obi-Wan was just as bad. Except that Obi-Wan’s adoptees tended to be either giant predators or Darksiders. 

“Really Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked bemusedly. 

“Well I wasn’t going to leave them to die,” Obi-Wan said with a slight tone of dismay. “They may not be fully sentient beings, but they are aware, and they also give us a tactical advantage.”

“They will fight for their freedom,” Savage’s grim voice came from the shadows, and Anakin nearly jumped out of his skin. 

“Just so,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, nodding to Savage. The Zabrak flustered slightly, but dipped his head in return. Obi-Wan turned then to Anakin. “And you’re alright Padawan?” he asked gently, reaching out with the Force. The Force itself was muddled and chaotic from the violence that had been done that day, the battlefield a gaping wound. But Obi-Wan was, as ever, Light and warmth, familiarity. 

Could he have left this? Anakin wondered as he was engulfed in Obi-Wan’s Force sense. He had been so obsessed with Padme, so willing to do anything for a smile from her, a scrap of her attention. He would have left the Order, left Obi-Wan - left the only family he had left. The Lineage - he hadn’t thought often of them as a family, but they were, weren’t they? Obi-Wan certainly treated Xanatos like an overbearing older brother and Dooku like a slightly embarrassing grandfather - and Yoda like the senile great-grandfather they all loved and listened to despite that his advice wasn’t always the best.

“I’m alright,” Anakin said, and something in him settled, the Darkness that had shadowed his steps since his mother’s death receding slightly. It did not give up its hold entirely, but it weakened there on Dathomir, even where it was strongest. “I tranced for a bit earlier to close it, and it stings a bit still, but I’ll be fine by morning.”

“Excellent,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, then turned that warm expression on Savage. “And your brothers? Do any of them need healing?” Savage blinked, then again, his golden eyes reflecting the firelight like those of a nocturnal predator. 

“I don’t know,” Savage admitted. “There would be nothing I could do.” Obi-Wan nodded, and rose. Savage rose as well, and trailed after Obi-Wan from campfire to campfire, watching as the Jedi spoke quiet words of encouragement to the surviving Nightbrothers and healed their wounds. Savage told them about the rancors that the Jedi had brought, promising that any brother able to ride would have a mount. After all, few of them were strong enough in the Force to forge such a bond.

“You lead your people well,” Obi-Wan said when he’d seen to the wounded, and Savage ducked his head slightly at the praise. 

“I will leave them soon,” Savage said firmly, and Obi-Wan looked up - then up again, why was he always surrounded by giants - the question clear in his eyes. “They say we are trapped here because of the Mothers,” he said, indicating the other clans with his chin. Obi-Wan nodded after a brief hesitation. 

“The Jedi have an interdiction order on the planet to prevent the more ambitious Nightsisters from spreading,” Obi-Wan admitted. 

“And if the Mothers are gone, so to is the - interdiction order?” Savage asked, saying the unfamiliar words carefully. Obi-Wan cocked his head thoughtfully. 

“Where would you go?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Where ever you would take me,” Savage said, and Obi-Wan’s breath caught in his chest. 

“I - I cannot promise you anything,” Obi-Wan warned.

“I ask nothing of you,” Savage said firmly. “Only that you bring me and Feral away with you when you leave.”

“I - I will have to speak to the Council, but - it may be possible,” Obi-Wan said. “But please Savage, don’t - don’t place all your hopes with me. We have not yet won this battle.”

“We will,” Savage said firmly. “Fear of Gethzerion is why my mother gave Maul away. He was the strongest of us, the strongest in generations. She would not conscience him a slave.”

“Maul?” Obi-Wan asked weakly, and Savage nodded. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, closing his eyes. Of course. “Savage - I am the reason your brother is dead. I killed him.” Savage blinked, then again, letting out a shuddering breath. His mouth moved silently, and then he nodded and looked Obi-Wan straight in the eye.

“You freed him,” Savage said with fierce conviction. “My brother was taken from this world by a man my mother thought trustworthy because he looked human. But I carried a bond with him, like the one that binds you to your brother," he said, nodding at Anakin. "I felt echoes of the pain he endured every day of his life. He may have left this world to a promise of freedom, but that did not save him from slavery. He was born enslaved, he lived enslaved, and he died enslaved, but he is free now.” Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, but nodded, unable to argue against such impassioned surety.

“The man, do you know his name?” Obi-Wan asked, and rather to his disappointment, Savage shook his head. Still, it was a lead. It was a clue they didn’t have before about how Maul had become a Sith apprentice. “Do you know how long ago it was?” Savage wrinkled his nose at that.

“Thirty years now? About that,” Savage said. “He was only - two maybe, just weaned, I was very small still, five, six years old. Feral was not born.” Obi-Wan nodded. He’d assumed Maul around his own age, but the confirmation didn’t ease his mind in the least. Maul had attacked him yes, had killed his Master and sent Obi-Wan spiraling closer to the Dark than anyone else before or since. Obi-Wan had killed him as much in self defense as anything, but that did not mean Obi-Wan had enjoyed causing Maul’s death. 

“He fought well,” Obi-Wan said. “He separated me from my Master, and killed my Master. It was as much luck as skill that allowed me to strike him down.”

“Your respect - I have seen you fight Kenobi. You do my brother a great honour,” Savage said, and brushed his fingers tentatively against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan flushed slightly. That was not his intention, but he could see how Savage might perceive it that way. So much of Nightbrother culture, at least to Obi-Wan, appeared tied up in their respect for martial skills. It made sense, as much as any culture could make sense to an outsider. 

_I do as my conscience demands_ , Obi-Wan did not say, although that too was truth. Maul, from what little Obi-Wan had been able to piece together, had been a victim of circumstance, and of the Sith Lord. That made his crimes no less, although it did place them within a framework. 

Maul had not been an agent of chaos, but a tool of destruction, although that reduced matters to a degree with which Obi-Wan was not strictly comfortable. Maul had performed evil actions, brought evil into places where before there had been peace. That he had done so at another’s command did not negate the action.

“He fought well,” Obi-Wan simply said, and that night, he barely slept at all between dreaming flashes of red and eyes like burning coals gleaming in the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere in wookieepedia I read that Nightsisters kill the Nightbrothers that they chose to impregnate them after they've conceived. I don't remember exactly where though, so [citation needed]. Also, I couldn't resist featuring a bit of Obi-Wan as tamer of beasts, I loved that scene from the Ryloth campaign.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you thought I would write a Dathomir arc without zombies, you thought wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> because zombies.

When Anakin woke the morning after the first battle on Dathomir, he found Obi-Wan meditating. Not too unusual of an occurrence. What _was_ unusual was the audience of Nightbrothers that were circled at least three deep around him, watching him with something that approached awe. Anakin reached out in the Force, wondering what Obi-Wan had done to inspire such an expression. Obi-Wan’s meditation felt like his usual morning exercises though, a warm calm in the seething Dark of Dathomir.

Anakin reached out further; perhaps they stared for some other reason? But the Force was more or less the same as when he fell asleep the night before. The battlefield felt slightly less like a raw wound in the Force, but the energies were still unsettled and shadowy, muddied by the many deaths of the previous day, the anger and hatred of the battling Dathomiri. With a shrug, Anakin slumped to sit near Obi-Wan and entered his own morning meditations, centering himself on Obi-Wan’s Light at first before communing with the Force. 

Once he was centered in the Force, Anakin could _feel_ the shock and almost worshipful wonder of the Nightbrothers, and realized with a start that nearly knocked him out of meditation that it was Obi-Wan’s stillness in the Force, his serenity and Light that so awed the Nightbrothers. They had never seen someone meditate before, Anakin realized. They had never felt someone commune with the Light side of the Force, their own grasp of their powers instinctual rather than trained. Compassion welled up in Anakin at that, further solidifying his resolve to help the Nightbrothers free themselves. 

As dawn crept up over the Dathomiri horizon, Obi-Wan rode a rancor around the perimeter of the Nightsisters’ fortress. Savage and the other Nightbrothers capable of taming a rancor rode with him, the beasts communicating softly among themselves while the riders remained silent. The camps had swollen overnight, until there were males from almost every clan present, and a number of females too, many of them mothers there to fight for their sons and daughters. Anakin rode behind Obi-Wan, clinging to his mentor’s waist and very diligently reminding himself it would be a bad idea to vomit down the back of Obi-Wan’s tunics.

They came under fire as they circled the fortress, to no great surprise. Anakin hesitated but a moment, then vaulted from the rancor even as the riders urged their beasts to greater speed. Agile and muscular, with large, grasping forepaws, the rancors made not only excellent mounts, but superb besiegers. Anakin followed through the breech the mounted Nightbrothers had made in the fortress walls, and soon Obi-Wan joined him on the ground, the two of them forming a dual bladed storm of mayhem.

Other fighters soon entered on foot, pushing through in the wake of the Nightbrothers and fighting any Nightsister they came across. Some younger Nightsisters, little more than initiates in the clan, surrendered without fighting, throwing down their weapons in the face of the fierce and motivated warriors confronting them. Many more Nightsisters though went down fighting, and were either killed or subdued by force. As they pushed deeper and deeper into the fortress, the fighting intensified, and the number of dead and injured mounted. Ahead, a rancor beast screamed through its death throes.

Obi-Wan and Anakin traded a look, and with the synchronicity that had always fallen on them in battle, raced to the front. Their feet thumped loudly despite the shrieking and calling of the beings around them and the clash of weaponry. A green mist puffed around their ankles with each footfall. They found Savage locked in battle with two Nightsisters, their close fitting, bright red garb denoting that they were trained as huntresses - assassins. Savage was losing - he was good, but he wasn’t trained to their level. Anakin reached out with the Force, and Obi-Wan was catapulted into the fray, lightsaber humming. 

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Obi-Wan said mildly as they paused during a lull in the battle. The green fog was nearly knee high, and Anakin looked over wide eyed. 

“Why’d you go and say that?” Anakin practically whinged. Obi-Wan smiled ruefully in apology, whirling his lightsaber as he settled into a defensive stance. A few moments later, the screaming started. Behind them. 

“Great Goddess protect us,” Savage said looking back, and Anakin, almost against his will, turned. 

“Obi-Wan….” Anakin urged, and Obi-Wan turned as well. A line of shambling figures was charging their rear, overwhelming their fighters with brute force, numbers, and absolutely no fear of death. As they approached, Obi-Wan and Anakin realized that the figures were Nightsisters but - more that they _had been_ Nightsisters. Their flesh was drawn tight over their bones, hair stingy and straw-like, eyes rotted out of their desiccated heads. 

“Who would know how to reanimate the dead?” Obi-Wan urgently asked Savage. “We need to find who performed the ritual, otherwise they’ll just keep rising.” Savage grimaced. 

“One of the Mothers, but I - I couldn’t say which one,” Savage admitted. 

“Do you know where they would be?” Obi-Wan demanded, and Savage shook his head. 

“Well kark,” Anakin swore, and Obi-Wan nodded. “Deeper into the fortress?” he suggested. “I mean, if the spell falls apart if the caster dies, then the caster is probably protected right?”

“A logical conclusion,” Obi-Wan said with a slight smile. “Come on.” With that, he turned back into the shadows of the complex. Anakin rolled his eyes and followed. Savage stared after the two Jedi, then at the approaching zombie horde. He shrugged his broad shoulders, then loped after the Jedi. He didn’t plan on dying, but if he did, he was going to take some of these witches with him.

Deeper and deeper into the fortress they ventured, their path impeded occasionally by Nightsisters willing to fight and die for their elders. Savage acquitted himself well, and developed a deep seated covetousness of a lightsaber. Or a staff. Could such a weapon be operated in staff form? He didn’t know, but he intended to find out. The sound of chanting ahead jerked Savage back to the present, and he followed the crash and hum of those brilliant swords of light onwards.

Obi-Wan and Anakin whirled and parried, one mind in two bodies, a maelstrom of destruction. Nightsisters lay dead and dying at their feet, and almost before their adversaries had breathed their last, they were pushing on. A roar, a swell of terror from deep in the pit of Savage’s gut, and he stumbled back as Mother Talzin threw herself at the Jedi, a sword of sickly green magelight in her slender hands. 

“Kriff!” Anakin exclaimed, dropping his ‘saber as the green blade passed close, parting his sleeve and searing a poisonous green-tinged line from shoulder to wrist on his sword arm. He rolled, forcing himself to summon his weapon back to hand, and almost dropped it as his sword arm spasmed. He switched his 'saber to his off hand, cursing under his breath.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan called, deflecting under the ichorous blade. 

“I’m okay,” Anakin affirmed, and re-entered the skirmish. 

Off to the side, Savage watched them with one eye, keeping alert to their surroundings. His vigilance paid off; thankfully they were at a chokepoint in the defenses, or the reanimated dead would be around him and on the Jedi in moments. As it was, he could take them on by ones and twos, instinctively using the Force to tear them limb from limb as they tried to overrun his position. They were an implacable foe, feeling no pain, fighting on until they had no limbs left, and even then trying to throw their bodies at him, or were decapitated.

“We need to get to the caster!” Savage called desperately. Did any of his people survive? Was Feral safe? It was impossible, in the haze of battle, to tell. He heard Skywalker cry out, and then the air shifted. Sparing a glance over his shoulder, Savage saw that Kenobi now fought with both lightsabers, standing over Skywalker’s downed form and spinning destruction around himself. 

Talzin had made the mistake of thoroughly pissing off an otherwise gentle man. Kenobi was wrath personified, and Talzin couldn’t last long against him. Talzin went down in three parts, head separated from torso separated from legs. Even as the three sections of her corpse fell to the ground, they dissolved into green mist, her surprised face last to fade away.

“When this is over, we burn _all_ the dead,” Obi-Wan swore, eyes burning with azure fire. He hauled Anakin to his feet, looking his Padawan over. 

“I can still fight,” Anakin promised, cradling his arms against his chest. It took Savage a moment longer to realize that his off arm, the arm in which he’d been wielding his ‘saber, had been severed half-way between wrist and elbow, and a sickening green poison was already climbing up the Jedi’s truncated arm. Obi-Wan let his skepticism show, but didn’t argue. The undead were still hounding at their heels, and they needed to find the caster and Gethzerion before they were utterly overwhelmed. 

Even if Anakin retired from the fight, there was no way to get him to safety without all three of them retreating. This might be their only chance to stop the undead army. And if not stopped, the risen Nightsisters would destroy everything in their path. Obi-Wan reached out in the Force, gauging the paths before them. No. The only way out was through. Anakin’s arm was already lost. Their only hope now lay in stopping the Nightsisters and then drawing the poison out of both of his arms before it reached his heart.

“Very well, come on,” Obi-Wan said, and they pressed deeper into the sanctuary of the Nightsisters fortress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you read 'canon-typical violence' and didn't think Anakin would still lose an arm, you thought wrong. also zombies. this is dathomir, fools.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Savage end the fight with the Nightsisters.

At the heart of the Darksisters’ fortress on Dathomir lay a deep, still pool. This well was one of the sources of their powers, a conduit of the energy they used to perform their rituals. From what little the other clans had been able to tell the Jedi, the Nightsisters created the ‘Water of Life’ that powered their spells using something that sounded a great deal like Sith Alchemy. Part of a giant animal was sacrificed, there was chanting and Force manipulation. Here, near this well of Dark energies, they would be in more danger than ever. 

Anakin limped at Obi-Wan’s shoulder, lightsaber activated and ready in hand, focusing on the moment rather than the pain radiating from both arms. The end of his residual arm was blackened - cauterized - and in a way Anakin was thankful for that. Bloodloss on top of everything else would likely remove him from the fight entirely. As it was, he knew he was shocky and feverish, and no where near in top form. Even so, he pressed on. The Force helped; drawing on it dulled his pain and kept him alert, but he wasn’t well trained enough in healing to seal all his wounds on the run.

Obi-Wan too kept his blade powered on; at this point, someone they didn’t recognize was more likely to be foe than friend. The few Nightsisters left as a last line of defense were cut through quickly, most without any exchange of words. They came silently out of the shadows, teeth bared in wild aggression, and two blue lightsabers would flash, cutting them down. The Jedi were careful now to always sever the neck, not certain if the newly dead would rise to fight again.

They found their way finally to the bolt hole into which Gethzerion and an ancient Mother of the Nightsisters waited. Gethzerion merely bared her teeth, then began to chant under her breath. Anakin and Obi-Wan traded a look, then rushed her. She might be an older woman in appearance, but that in no way negated the danger she presented. Like Talzin, Gethzerion was able to utilize the magical ichor that permeated the atmosphere to furnish physical weapons. Unlike Talzin, Gethzerion needed no ritual to utilize the Force as a weapon.

Anakin screamed as he was caught up in green-tinged Force lightning, electricity dancing under his skin. Obi-Wan sucked in a harsh breath, and then he placed himself directly in the path of the Force lightning, catching it on his blade. The energy roiled around him, and Obi-Wan took a deep, steadying breath, reaching for the Force. The world seemed to still beneath him for a moment, and he had a heartbeat of complete serenity. The Force swelled, and Obi-Wan danced, deflecting lightning and parrying Gethzerion’s conjured sword. In a way it was like fighting a dual wielder, except that Force lightning refused to obey the laws of physics, and instead could strike from any angle.

“Jedi,” Gethzerion hissed, as she attacked. “You’ve taken my daughter already.”

“You drove her away yourself,” Obi-Wan rejoined coolly, whirling under her infuriated attack. “Your quest for power saw to that, the same as it has poisoned your people.” Gethzerion growled, lashing out with a veritable storm of Force lightning. Savage grit his teeth as shocks raced through him, his breath hitching in his throat. Anakin swore and lashed back with his lightsaber, taking one of Gethzerion’s hands. She howled, focusing on Anakin and redoubling her efforts. Anakin was lifted from the ground, spasming jerkily as electricity raced through his body. 

“No!” Obi-Wan declared, and with her focus entirely on Anakin, Obi-Wan lunged. Gethzerion had time for a single sound of surprise, and then she was dissolving into greenish mist as Talzin had. The last was an ancient Nightsister with white hair caught up in a knot on the top of her head. A shamanic headdress of bones crowned her forehead, and she looked up at them with rheumy eyes. She clearly knew they meant to kill her, and yet she simply kept chanting the spell that powered the army of the dead. Obi-Wan recoiled from her Force presence, ancient and corrupt. He swung, and she was no more. 

“Well, that was fun,” Anakin said, staring at Daka’s shriveled corpse from where he had been flung. In truth, she had appeared little more than a zombie herself, her desiccated skin pulled close over her skull, her fragile body swathed in red shrouds. 

“Let us gather the dead,” Obi-Wan said somberly, then shook his head. “Stars, what a waste.” He helped Savage and Anakin to their feet. Anakin nearly collapsed again as soon as he was upright, and Obi-Wan shouldered under his Padawan’s arm, taking Anakin’s weight and bolstering them both with the Force. “How are you?” he asked, looking up at Anakin, then Savage. 

“Dizzy,” Anakin admitted. “I think I’ll have some interesting burn patterns. Heart rhythm regular, I feel alright. But then, I may just not be feeling anything more than the arm though.” Obi-Wan nodded, pushing healing Force energy toward Anakin. Savage just shook his head.

“She barely shocked me more than the overseers prods,” Savage said with a shrug. “Just enough to knock me down and make me a bit dizzy. Not enough to do permanent damage.” Obi-Wan shared what healing energy he could there too, just to be safe. Slowly, they made their way out of the fortress, and found their rancor beasts once more. 

The Nightsisters fortress was put to the torch, as was every body they found. While all hoped that the chant to raise the dead had died with Daka, no one wanted to take the risk of leaving a single corpse unburned. In the aftermath, the already small population was decimated. For generations they had been losing their people in a war of attrition. Outright battle only sped the dying. 

Pyres dotted the landscape for miles around the burning ruin of the fortress. Even as the dead burned though, the veil Obi-Wan had felt over Dathomir thinned. Without Gethzerion and Talzin encouraging the Dark corruption, the Force was already recovering. Yes, the deaths muddied things, made the Force chaotic and unbalanced, and the use of an undead army only made matters more fraught. But the deaths of Gethzerion and Talzin had severed the connection between the more corrupted spirits and the living. Dathomir would always be touched by the Dark, but the path was already brightening.

Obi-Wan was glad indeed of the lightening atmosphere. He and Anakin knelt in meditation as soon as they were safely back at the camp, Obi-Wan healing what he could, drawing the poison from Anakin’s arms. The cut had cauterized neatly, not unlike a wound from a lightsaber. It meant that reattaching the severed limb would have been impossible, even if the severed arm hadn’t been corrupted by the Nightsister poison imbued in the ichorous blade. They would have to find a reputable medcenter and arrange for a prosthetic, but for now they would make do with bacta patches from their medkits and the limited Force Healing of which they were capable. 

Anakin wavered between distraught and apathetic at the injury. He had long placed much of his worth in his strength as a fighter, and denigrated Obi-Wan’s facility with words, not understanding how a Jedi who had achieved fame as a Sith-slayer could be so quietly pleased when he avoided the onset of hostilities through mediation. But here, in this larger scale conflict than any he had before experienced, Anakin began to understand. 

Death was not proud, nor glorious. Killing was no great skill. He had fought and killed before, but it had been more personal, usually in defense of himself or his mentor, save the massacre he had enacted against the Tuskens. The deaths they had wrought here had been for a good cause, for the good of all Dathomir. And yet each death rested heavy on Anakin’s shoulders. Each death was someone they could not save, some of them young women barely older than himself, indoctrinated their whole lives to view everyone who wasn’t of their family and clan with suspicion if not outright hatred. It was a terribly sad thing, Anakin thought, for someone to die with so much hate in their hearts.

“Your oaths hold, Jedi,” Mother Rell said wearily when all the clan leaders had gathered some hours after the fighting. The males stood taller than they had before, confidence bolstered by their recent actions. For generations on this planet the males had been subservient to the females, who tended to be more Force sensitive. Things would change. How though - that was up to the Dathomiri.

“I am a man of my word,” Obi-Wan said evenly, looking over the gathering. Some of the leaders now were young women, their elders having perished in battle. “I would speak a word of advice,” he offered, and Rell dipped her head. “You are at a crossroads, Mother. For generations the Nightsisters subjugated all others on this world. I would urge you to inspect their deeds and credo carefully. You too have subjugated others. If all beings are not equal, the oppressed will eventually rise up and overthrow the oppressors.” Rell bristled, but nodded, clearly understanding. 

“You will have your information Jedi, and then you will leave,” Rell commanded, and Obi-Wan bowed, then sat. 

“Stars, what crawled up her-” Anakin muttered, cutting off at a sharp look from Obi-Wan. He subsided with a mutter. His poor mood didn’t really have anything to do with Rell personally, more the system she was a part of, the system she had benefited from. Most clan brothers weren’t enslaved. But they weren’t truly equal either, and that gnawed at Anakin, had his ingrained sense of justice curdling at the unfairness that a population might be mistreated simply due to a circumstance of birth. The pain that still throbbed in his healing arms didn’t exactly help, either.

“Change is always a threat to those in power,” Obi-Wan said that evening. “Come, let us meditate. Were you able to speak with Anu today?” Anakin let out a low breath and nodded. 

“Yes - it - it was good, especially since I didn’t talk to xyr yesterday with all the fighting,” Anakin admitted. “Xe - there’s a lot to talk about still. And I - I’m still - figuring out how to talk about things? I guess? I - it’s like learning a new language.”

“Would - would it help for me to talk to Anu?” Obi-Wan asked. 

“Like - talk to xyr as xyr patient? Or talk to xyr about my progress? Because - probably both?” Anakin said cautiously. 

“I don’t -” Obi-Wan started, and Anakin just stared at him. Obi-Wan fell silent with a sigh, looking away.

“I know you don’t _want_ help,” Anakin said carefully. “But if it would help me for you to talk to someone, isn’t that enough?”

“Low blow my dear,” Obi-Wan sighed. “But yes, that would be more than enough, and you know it. I’ve failed you-”

“Yes, many times, but this - this _isn’t_ your failure,” Anakin cut off. “Obi-Wan, you need help. We - and I mean the whole lot of us - we place so much on you. It’s okay to ask for help.” Obi-Wan sighed, but nodded, and Anakin grinned, reaching out and hugging his mentor enthusiastically with his good arm. “You matter so much to me, to all of us,” Anakin said, courage bolstered by Obi-Wan’s word that he would seek help. “You give so much. Please let us help you in turn, even if that’s only by making you talk to someone.” 

“Very well,” Obi-Wan agreed, letting himself be coddled by his Padawan. Anakin was warm with affection, and it felt terribly nice to be held. Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around Anakin’s waist and rested his head against his tall Padawan’s shoulder with a sigh. Anakin smiled happily, running his fingers through Obi-Wan’s hair. They both smelled like smoke and dirt and blood, but Anakin - Anakin hadn’t felt such joy in some time. His mentor was proud of him, was willing to accept the help he had long denied needing, and was warm and safe in his arms. Despite the loss of his hand, he couldn’t help but feel certain everything was going to work out.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan and Anakin wrap things up on Dathomir.

Mother Rell sent for Obi-Wan early in the morning, not long after he’d completed his meditations. He left her presence some time later with the databanks from the _Chu’unthor_ and a scathing lecture ringing in his ears about where he ought keep his opinions. Dathomir, Obi-Wan surmised, would likely be in for a few more generations of unrest. The males had had a taste of rebellion now, and wouldn’t be made second class citizens so easily as they had in the past, despite that far fewer of them showed the same level of Force ability the females did. 

The conclusion did not please Obi-Wan, for he disliked the idea of the fighting continuing, but it was clear that there was nothing more he could do without dictatorially imposing his will. Which meant it was time to go. They had what they had come for, information on Maul and the archives from the lost ship.

Anakin and Savage were watching one another warily across the campfire when Obi-Wan returned, and Obi-Wan sighed, seeking the Force. Savage had made his intentions clear over the past days. He wanted to leave Dathomir, wanted to find a life for himself and his brother elsewhere. Obi-Wan couldn’t fault him that desire, and he felt a distant sort of obligation to Savage as well, not for the death of Maul, but due to Savage’s loyalty since they had met. 

“We have what we came for,” Obi-Wan told Anakin. “Gather your things.” He turned to Savage, who had risen as well. “Gather what you and Feral wish to bring with you. There’s a Jedi Academy on Almas that takes older students. If you’re serious, they’d be glad to have you. The planet is like Dathomir - the Force is shadowed there, but I think you could become quite the Jedi if that is your will.” Anakin blinked, but Savage grinned broadly, then nodded sharply. 

“Really?” Anakin asked.

“Really what? Really is there an academy on Almas? Really do I think he could make a good Jedi? Really is it a planet where the Force is corrupted? I’ll need a little more clarification my dear.”

“I mean - all of those things?” 

“Well, yes, really then,” Obi-Wan said bemusedly, letting go of his lingering irritation with Rell and the Mothers. “There is an old Sith Temple on Almas, which is part of what makes the Force so corrupted there. The Almas Academy watches over the Temple, and takes on adult students for Jedi training. If the Council had refused to train you after Master Qui-Gon passed, I would have taken you there, or to the Altisian sect, although they’re harder to track down, as they use a praxeum ship rather than a planetary base. It’s called the _Chu’unthor_ , probably after the ship lost here on Dathomir.”

“Huh,” Anakin said somewhat weakly. He was still getting accustomed to the idea that he wasn’t about to be thrown out of the Order despite his misdeeds, the idea that Obi-Wan while not overly demonstrative really did love him that much, would fight for him, always would have fought for him. Somehow it had worked itself into his head that Obi-Wan would always _always_ chose Council and Code over him, even though that didn’t match Obi-Wan’s obvious affection for and loyalty to the other members of their Lineage despite their occasional missteps on the narrow path of redemption. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked, and Anakin looked back up at his mentor. “You did well here on Dathomir. I think it’s no secret that this mission is a test for you, to see if you could stay the path.” Anakin nodded after a moment, and Obi-Wan smiled. “You’re doing very well Padawan mine,” he reaffirmed gently, and Anakin found himself inexplicably choked up. “There will be other tests, but that is not something that singles you out,” Obi-Wan said. “How many times do you think I have been tempted?” Anakin blinked. Obi-Wan had mentioned temptation in the past, but Anakin - Anakin had been too convinced that any suffering or challenge others faced was inconsequential in comparison to his own struggles.

“I - I don’t know?” Anakin said with a slight cringe. 

“I don’t either to be honest,” Obi-Wan admitted, reaching out to Anakin and rubbing his arm silently conveying that this ignorance was not unforgivable. “I suppose my point is that temptation - it is always present. There will always be something that makes you question your path as a Jedi. Some situation you cannot change, a fight you cannot win. Everyday we wake, and we give ourselves to the Force, and when the Dark beckons, we turn it aside. We reach instead for compassion. It sounds terribly simple at the remote like that, doesn’t it?” Anakin nodded, put like that it did sound simple. And Obi-Wan made it look that simple too. Most Jedi did, which could be positively infuriating when Anakin was having an off day.

Anakin sighed. The longer this mission went - the longer he was away from Coruscant - the longer he talked with Healer Anu - the more he was rethinking ideas he had previously held as incontrovertible fact. But it was difficult to believe that the Code and Council forbid love when he’d overheard the affection between Obi-Wan and Mace Windu, who was Master of the High Council. It was impossible to believe that the path to Darkness was one way when Obi-Wan every day helped lead Anakin closer to the Light. 

He’d become - Anakin didn’t like who he’d become. His mother had believed that the world only needed more kindness, and yet for years now Anakin’s first response was anger, was violence. He’d become someone, he knew, with whom his mother would have been terribly disappointed. If she knew - if she had heard about something like his massacre of the Tuskens - Anakin knew she would forgive him, but she would be disappointed, and that - that would be worse, as it was always worse when he made Obi-Wan disappointed. 

Obi-Wan, who believed in him when no one else did. Who said - who said he would have left his home for Anakin all those years ago, and the Force had echoed with Obi-Wan’s sincerity. He really would have done it, even then, even barely knowing Anakin, Obi-Wan would have given up his home and family to ensure Anakin became a Jedi. And he - Anakin had nearly thrown that away. No, Anakin resolved. He would do better. He didn’t know exactly how, but he would do better, he would earn the gentle pride Obi-Wan already exhibited in his accomplishments. 

With a sharp nod, Anakin went about breaking down their camp and loading up the rancors. While he’d grown no better at riding the beasts, he’d developed a much deeper appreciation for Obi-Wan’s ability to befriend large animals. Without the rancors, they’d have to hand carry everything back to their landing site. Given the difficulty of the terrain, it hadn’t been a task Anakin was looking forward to. But the rancors were clever enough to return to their clan when they were loosed, and Rell and the other Mothers wanted the Jedi off planet badly enough that they were willing to risk the loss of two trained rancors to be rid of them.

As Anakin finished, Obi-Wan brought his own packs over, and even more importantly, the sacks containing the recovered data cores of the _Chu’unthor_. Carefully Obi-Wan secured the luggage, talking quietly to the rancor and petting its massive head. If the beast decided to, it could easily snap either Obi-Wan or Anakin up in a single bite. It was not a fate Anakin was eager to contemplate. 

“Ready?” Obi-Wan asked, glancing over. Anakin nodded. He seemed a bit steadier, Obi-Wan thought. There would be further challenges, there always were, but Obi-Wan was pleased with Anakin’s progress so far. Healer Anu had been a Force-sent miracle. Obi-Wan sighed at the thought. He wasn’t looking forward to his own sessions, but - it did make sense. He dreaded it, but if it helped Anakin - he sighed again. 

Thankfully, Savage and Feral arrived before he could sink too far into his own mind. The solid weight of Feral’s little body crashed into Obi-Wan’s legs by way of greeting, and the boy grinned up at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smile in response at the brilliance of this innocent child’s light. Crouching down, Obi-Wan hugged Feral gently, then stood, carrying the boy onto his hip. 

“Eager to be going are you?” Obi-Wan asked bemusedly, looking over to watch Savage approach. The older Nightbrother carried two bulging packs, and his golden eyes widened slightly, then softened when Savage caught sight of Obi-Wan holding Feral. Savage knew that the Jedi had a committed lover, knew that Obi-Wan had refused quite a few of the more highly regarded sisters of the various clans. And in that moment, Savage was deeply envious of Obi-Wan’s partner. 

“Don’t climb on the Jedi Feral,” Savage scolded, and Feral’s smile dimmed. It was a lance in Savage’s heart to see that joy fade, and he mentally castigated himself. 

“I’m afraid the fault is mine,” Obi-Wan said, gently crouching to set Feral down. Feral clung despite the admonishment though, basking in Obi-Wan’s warm Force presence. 

“No - I - it’s fine,” Savage sighed, then crossed to them and secured his packs on the rancor. “Are you riding with the Jedi, Feral, or with me?”

“Why not both?” Feral asked, his little hands twisting in Obi-Wan’s tunics. Obi-Wan couldn’t help his smile, utterly charmed by the youngling. Savage sighed, glancing at them, then at Anakin. 

“Err, I’m not really capable of steering one of these,” Anakin reminded them. 

“Please?” Feral whinged, pasting a pout on his face as he peered up at Obi-Wan. Savage hid a grin at Obi-Wan’s helpless glance. 

“We could tie the reins of the second rancor to the first’s harness?” Obi-Wan offered, and Anakin sighed, then nodded, securing one mount to the other and then swinging up on the second beast. “Sorry my dear,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, touching the toe of Anakin’s boot. Anakin just smiled bemusedly. He remembered quite well how much of a push over Obi-Wan was when he was confronted with a child. Anakin had gotten his way more than once as a new Padawan with a teary look and a few sniffles. 

“Don’t apologize for being soft-hearted Master,” Anakin said with a smile. “It’s what’s seen me through so far, after all.” Obi-Wan flushed at that, and accepted Savage’s help mounting the lead rancor. Savage settled behind Obi-Wan, steadying himself with a hand on Obi-Wan’s hip as the rancor set into motion. Obi-Wan leaned back a little against Savage’s solid strength, and Savage swallowed thickly and thought of every unpleasant thing he could imagine to keep from having a physical response to the Jedi pressed against his chest. 

Was it because Obi-Wan was human? Savage couldn’t help but wondering. While the Dathomiri people showed some variety in appearance in the spectrum between human and Zabrak, males tended to be more Zabrak in appearance. Savage had never seen hair on a male before he first saw the two Jedi. Part of it, he was sure, was the safety Obi-Wan represented, his serenity and Light presence. But Savage had never been attracted to another male before, and only rarely had he felt attraction of such strength. He huffed softly. It was futile anyway. Obi-Wan was faithful to his lover, and their paths would diverge soon.

“So how far is Almas?” Savage asked, turning his mind firmly to the future Obi-Wan had offered him and Feral. 

“About two days in hyperspace,” Obi-Wan replied. “It’s in the Expansion Region, towards the Core from here. Dathomir is in the Outer Rim, the very edges of our galaxy and outside Republic space. We’re fairly near the Hydian Way though, which is one of the main hyperspace routes. We’ll drop to realspace briefly on the second day to switch into the Corellian Run. The Cularin system, which contains Almas, is in that sector.” Savage nodded, although much of the information meant little and less to him, as he had never learned galactic geography or hyperspace mapping. These things, and more, he would learn at Almas in the coming years.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onwards from Dathomir

Savage let out a low sound of - he wasn’t sure to be honest. He’d never seen a spaceship before, and the one the Jedi had come in was sleek, the very definition of otherworldly. From a bit behind him, he heard Skywalker’s quiet noise of relief as he swung down from the trailing rancor and began unloading the packs. Obi-Wan patted his rancor fondly and slipped down with Feral still in his arms, and the child squealed with joy at the rapid descent. 

A smile broke across Savage’s face at the sound of his brother’s undisguised pleasure. They were stepping forward into the unknown, but Savage couldn’t help but think this was the best decision in a long string of good ones. Ever since Obi-Wan Kenobi had come into their lives, everything had gone better for him and Feral. He wished he could figure out a way to stay with the Jedi, but the already presented option of the Jedi Academy at Almas was too good a chance to pass up for a maybe. He would go, and he would become the best possible Jedi, become someone worthy of Obi-Wan’s unspoken trust in him. 

The door hissed open, and Savage followed the Jedi up into the ship. Just standing there was enough to set Savage’s hearts racing. He was leaving Dathomir. He grinned, hauling his and Feral’s bags deeper into the ship. They were leaving Dathomir, and he would never, ever, _ever_ be a slave again. Joy swelled up inside him, and he had to stop, leaning against a bulkhead until the delirium of it passed over him. They were leaving Dathomir.

“Start preflight, would you Anakin? I’ll call the Temple for a sitrep and then let Almas know we’re on our way,” Obi-Wan called out from deeper into the ship, and Savage followed that voice to a small sleeping area. “Hello there,” Obi-Wan greeted. “We’ll have to hot bunk - sleep in shifts - but we’ll manage. We’ve plenty of rations, though some of them may be - not exactly gourmet.”

“Anything is fine,” Savage assured, stepping closer to run his hand over Feral’s skull. His little brother was sticking close to Obi-Wan, and Savage could already tell that parting them would be difficult. 

“For now, hold tight. I have to report in, but we’ll be on our way to Almas shortly,” Obi-Wan promised, and then went to the comm array. Savage remained behind, and managed to corral Feral with him while Obi-Wan was contacting his superiors. It took a few tones for the Temple to answer, and Obi-Wan smiled slightly when he saw why. The comm center had routed him directly through to Mace. 

“Hello,” Mace greeted simply, his usual stern expression softening.

“Hello,” Obi-Wan returned with a fond smile. “I have the data from the _Chu’unthor_ on board, as well as two refugees.”

“Of course,” Mace said with a slight smile, and Obi-Wan leveled a slight glare at him, then shrugged. He couldn’t simply _not_ help. It wasn’t in him. 

“I’ve proposed Almas for them, as the elder is my age and his brother is, I believe, eleven or twelve Standards, but both are Force sensitive if untrained. I’ll secure a courier from Almas for the _Chu’unthor_ data, we have a few more leads to track down before I declare the trail cold on Maul. The - the brothers are - well, Maul’s brothers,” he said with a slight grimace. 

“Tell me about them,” Mace urged. Obi-Wan nodded. 

“The elder is called Savage Opress. He believes he’s around the same age as me, as I said. He vaguely remembers Maul, and that their mother gave Maul to an offworlder, human male in appearance, when Maul was newly weaned, probably not more than two Standards. While he never saw Maul again, he maintains that they had a bond, and that he felt Maul was in pain from then until the moment of - of his death,” Obi-Wan said carefully. 

“Please don’t regret living,” Mace urged. “I know - I know you regret taking life. And yes, it’s becoming more and more clear how little agency Maul would have had. But please. Killing him was the only way you would have survived, and once he killed you, he would have gone after Amidala and everyone else there.”

“I - I know,” Obi-Wan said. “I - this investigation will - will likely require further reassurances on your part. I do not regret living, I don’t, I promise. But I - I wish by all the stars he could have been saved.”

“You cannot rescue everyone dear heart,” Mace said gently. “Your compassion does you so much credit Obi-Wan. Spare a little for yourself now and again.” Obi-Wan smiled wanly at that. “So Almas?”

“Almas. I am not quite as skilled as Qui-Gon at defying the Council, and while the Temple might accept Feral for training as he’s eleven-ish, I'm well aware that securing a place for Savage on Coruscant is beyond my means. I - I couldn’t conscience sending Savage alone into the wide world. I thought about trying to find the Altisians, but I think that the atmosphere at Almas would be slightly familiar to them after Dathomir. From Almas, I’m thinking Anakin and I will run out the Corellian to the Kaaga Run via the Reena Trade Route, skirt the edge of Hutt space. There’s a few arenas I know of there where Maul might have fought. If we can pull some financials that would be a major step in the right direction.”

“Your compassion does you credit," Mace reiterated. "Does all of us credit in truth." He paused, then continued, knowing his next question would be unwelcome, but also needing to ask. "Do you really think you can find a trail after all these years?” Mace asked somewhat skeptically. While he would be pleased if they found anything, he wasn’t terribly hopeful. Obi-Wan sighed, passing his hand over his mouth and tugging gently on his beard. 

“I know it’s a very slim chance,” Obi-Wan admitted. “But I’m willing to try just about anything at this point. The Separatists are only getting louder from what I can tell. If we can find who’s fanning the flames though -” he paused and let out a tired sigh. “Force Mace, the thought of a galactic war with a Sith pulling the strings? I just - I can’t think of much worse.”

“No, it’s not an outcome I enjoy contemplating either,” Mace admitted. “Still.”

“Still,” Obi-Wan accepted with a sigh. They might not desire war, but to preserve peace, they might have to prepare for a galaxy at war all the same. A soft bleep drew Obi-Wan’s attention, and he sighed again. “That’s the warning for hyperspace. I’ll contact the Temple again when we change vectors.”

“Force be with you,” Mace said, his hand twitching as he repressed the urge to reach for Obi-Wan. 

“Force be with you,” Obi-Wan replied fondly, and cut the transmission. He quickly encoded a text only message to Almas, then joined Anakin in the cockpit. “All go?”

“Board’s green,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan nodded. 

“I’ll let our passengers know to strap in,” Obi-Wan said with a smile, clasping Anakin’s shoulder gently. Anakin looked up with a smile of his own, reaching up to touch the back of Obi-Wan’s hand. On his way back to the small passenger cabin, Obi-Wan checked his comm, and smiled grimly at the assurance of places for Savage and Feral at Almas. He found Savage and Feral curled together on the bunk, mewling softly. Savage let out an almost sub audible rumble, and Feral calmed a little. Sensing Obi-Wan, Savage looked up, hairless brow ridges rising in silent question. 

“We’re about to make our first jump to hyperspace,” Obi-Wan warned. “I don’t anticipate any trouble, but every being experiences hyperspace differently, especially at first.” Savage nodded, and a moment later the frequency the engines hummed at pitched up. 

“Hyperdrive engaged,” Anakin said over the intercom, and Savage grimaced as the ship jumped forward. 

A day and a half later, the sleek solar sailor dropped back into realspace so they could change hyperspace routes. The astromech calculated their next vectors, while Obi-Wan checked in at the Coruscant Temple and also with the Almas Academy now that he had their frequency. By the time the calculations had been made, everything was arranged. Once in hyperspace, Anakin rejoined the rest of the party. 

“So Almas,” Obi-Wan opened, and Anakin groaned. 

“Thaere sector, Cularin system. Fifth orbit around binary stars Morasil and Termadus. One natural satellite, captured planet Dorumaa. Cularin system originally discovered by Darth Rivan, who terraformed Almas and built the fortress there before 250 BRR. He was driven out by Jedi during the New Sith Wars, and the system was forgotten by the Republic. Re-discovered by the Republic in 768 ARR,” Anakin recited off by rote. “Only sentients native to the system are the Tarasin, a saurian people native to Cularin.”

“Very good Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, patting Anakin’s knee. 

“I - I’m sorry, BRR? ARR?” Savage asked.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said. “BRR - before the Ruusan Reformation. ARR, after. The Ruusan Reformation was - a vast and complex reorganization of the Order and the Republic both at the end of the New Sith Wars. The Jedi disbanded their military strength and accepted oversight from the Senate, and it was believed that the Sith were utterly exterminated.” Savage nodded. Obi-Wan paused, not sure how to ask his question without sounding utterly condescending. 

“Just ask,” Savage prompted, seeing the Jedi’s hesitation. Obi-Wan sighed. 

“Can you read Basic?” Obi-Wan asked. “I didn’t think to ask before, which was rather short sighted of me, considering.” He’d made the same mistake when Anakin was new to the Temple, and it had taken him a few days to realise his incorrect assumptions.

“I can read my name, a few smaller words,” Savage said with a shrug. “Other than that?” he shook his head. “I’ve taught Feral what I know, but - like I said, it’s not much.”

“It’s a start,” Obi-Wan said. “I can help you with that, if you like.” Savage gave a broad, toothy grin and a firm nod. “Alright then.”

“I’ll keep reading on Almas,” Anakin said, not pleased at the prospect but knowing it was necessary. With that, they settled in for their last half-day in hyperspace. Anakin had wisely set the navcomp to drop them into realspace at a distance outside the Cularin system, which was notoriously difficult to astrogate. The entire system was ringed by a comet cloud, which made entering the system while in hyperspace borderline suicidal. 

Obi-Wan spent those hours with Savage and Feral, teaching them what he could of Aurebesh lettering and how to read Basic in such an abbreviated timeframe. Savage grew noticeably frustrated a few times, but was usually able to breathe it out, and he clearly wanted to offer Feral every possible advantage in starting their new life at Almas. The time passed easily with all of them on task, and when Anakin alerted them that they were dropping to realspace, Savage settled into the co-pilot’s seat with Feral on their lap. 

“Whoa, not joking about that comet cloud,” Anakin noted, easing them around so they could watch the massive ice chunks whirl past. Switching over the controls, Anakin watched the dance of the comets for a few minutes, then eased them into an approach vector that would direct them through the cloud without incident. The outermost planet of the system, an erratic named Morjakar was at the distant point of its orbit, and they made way without incident to Almas. 

Little light reached the planet, but the kalusin grasses that made the atmosphere breathable for humans glowed faintly day and night. That eerie phosphorescence gave the planet a strange aura on approach. The main settlement of Forard, which boasted the Almas Academy and the only spaceport, glowed on the dim surface, and they soon set the solar sailor down. It was a short walk into the main buildings of the spaceport, accessed through an airlock due to the inhospitable atmosphere, even with the kalusin keeping the worst of the methane and phosphorus in check. 

They were met by a Jedi with a closed aircar thankfully, and soon arrived at the Almas Academy at the center of town. The building was clearly modeled after the Coruscant Temple, composed of a massive ziggurat topped with five spires. The aircar zipped into an enclosed landing platform, and they were soon being escorted to meet the Council, and the Headmaster of the Academy, Lanius Qel-Bertuk. 

Qel-Bertuk was an attractive older male human with thick black hair touched with silver and a neatly trimmed black beard. A welcoming feeling seemed to emanate from him, although Obi-Wan sensed this was not an active utilization of the Force, simply the effect Qel-Bertuk had on the world. Obi-Wan bowed deeply to the Master; he had long admired Master Qel-Bertuk, and was quite pleased to meet the man. Qel-Bertuk bowed in return, although not as deeply, deep blue eyes looking over their party. 

“Master Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker, I am pleased to have you as our guests here at Almas,” Qel-Bertuk greeted. “I am pleased also to meet our prospective students. We have one other Dathomiri student, Ros Lai. She will meet us in a little while to show you around.” Savage nodded, and they talked for a little while longer, mostly the Master questioning Savage and Feral to ensure they would be a good fit at the academy, before Lai arrived to give them the tour and show them to living quarters. 

It was a long day by the time Obi-Wan and Anakin had eaten late-meal with Master Qel-Bertuk and some of the other instructors, and they were happy to settle into their guest quarters and do their evening meditations. Obi-Wan also sent a quick message to Mace, updating him on their situation. They would remain at Almas to inspect the Sith Temple at Qel-Bertuk’s request - it seemed their adventure on Korriban had made its way through the grapevine. After that, Obi-Wan and Anakin would trace what faint hints they had of Maul’s movement through the Outer Rim. An Almas Padawan would courier the _Chu’unthor_ archives to Coruscant as their annual quest, and hopefully the information therein would be of use to the Order. 

Obi-Wan settled to sleep slowly. He was glad to be off Dathomir, although he could feel the distant taint of the Sith Temple. Like his initial assessment of Dathomir, the corruption of the Force on Almas felt faintly familiar, almost homey, which worried Obi-Wan immensely. It was not, he knew, a mystery that could be solved in a single day, and so he let go, although he also made note to speak further on the topic with Master Qel-Bertuk. The Headmaster was renowned for his prescience and mental ability, and Obi-Wan hoped to study with him while they were in residence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so we're rapidly approaching the end of this fic (sad, i know) and i've started writing the sequel. which is - going slow. but! it will get written. i just have to figure out wtf is going to happen and how to get there is all ;) there will be at least one more side story too.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anti-Sith shenanigans on Almas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh so, with regards to getting rid of Sith ghosts - honestly I just made shit up. Because I have no idea how one would actually go about exorcising such a spirit. If you read this and think: “silly bird, that’s not how the Force works!” my answer is: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

While the corruption of the Sith Temple was a constant pressure at the edge of his awareness, Obi-Wan found he rather liked the slower pace of the Almas Academy. There was a creche, but adults just beginning their training weren’t uncommon. There was a peaceful atmosphere throughout the Academy, as most of the students tended toward the study of meditation and the metaphysical uses of the Force rather than combat maneuvers. Master Qel-Bertuk was an enthusiastic teacher, and was happy to discuss Jedi philosophy, prescience and other esoteric matters with Obi-Wan. 

The Headmaster was even able to lead Anakin to a breakthrough in meditation, teaching him sensory based techniques. Even better, the Healers were able to fit Anakin with the appropriate neuro-interfaces and build him a basic prosthetic, which he promptly began tweaking to better fit his needs. The down time allowed Anakin to modify his fighting technique as well, accustoming himself to his new prosthetic and building the strength back up in his other arm. It was not a smooth adjustment, but Anakin pushed himself hard, determined not to let his mentor - or himself - down.

They remained there at the Academy for a month or so by the local calendar before undertaking their mission to the Sith Temple. A few older students of the Academy - including Ros Lai - accompanied them in the solar sailor to the desert wasteland surrounding the ancient Sith Temple. The plain was flat black silt, unbroken by any sign of life. Distantly though, they could hear the hissing call of hunting Dark Lizards. They all checked their weapons carefully before heading towards the distant Temple. 

The Almas Jedi had recorded that the dark wastes around the Sith Temple spread a meter a year, and a band of twenty Knights stood a permanent watch over the structure. Thirty meters high, it loomed against the horizon, a dark blot against the starry sky. They double checked their respirators, then set out at a fast clip, the Dark energies of the Temple beckoning them onward. Without the Force, they would have perished on the journey from dehydration or exhaustion. Without the Force, the Temple would have ensnared their minds and left them easy prey for the Dark Lizards. 

Around the perimeter of the Sith Temple, a deep trench had been dug, exposing the subterranean entrances. Most were blocked off, filled in with duracrete to deter adventure seekers and looters. When the Almas Jedi had taken control of the Temple, teams had gone through dismantling all of the physical traps and pitfalls. They could only work in short shifts though, the Dark presence of the Temple too much to bear for long. Only those with a high degree of training in the mental arts were cleared to serve at the Sith Temple, and even then only for brief duration. 

While the opportunity to study the Temple was quite the honour, Obi-Wan was still rather wary. Anakin had been doing better, much better since coming to some sort of realization on Dathomir. But Obi-Wan feared for his Padawan. He knew that tests were necessary, that challenges, and how Anakin responded to them, would show how much progress Anakin had made. But that didn’t mean Obi-Wan was entirely comfortable leading an expedition of Padawans into a Sith Temple, even if there were twenty Knights close at hand should anything go wrong. 

They entered through one of the approved doors, Obi-Wan leading the way. He kept one hand on his lightsaber, the other holding a glow-rod aloft. The gleaming black walls, despite being placed wide and even, felt like they were crushing the small party. Intricate glyphs were carved into the facing, and Obi-Wan took care not to let his eyes rest on any of the inscriptions for long. While he was no expert in the ancient Sith, this Temple had already killed many Jedi. 

Slowly they made their way up into a large central chamber. An oculus in the ceiling let starlight enter, although it provided little illumination. At the far side was a complex altar. It had once held a holocron, Obi-Wan knew, which was now safely shut away in the vault on Coruscant. As they looked around the massive room, Obi-Wan tensed. They weren’t alone. Silently he palmed the hilt of his ‘saber, and with a low thrum, activated the weapon. The Padawans all activated their weapons a moment later.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked. 

“We aren’t alone,” Obi-Wan said placidly. 

“Well reasoned,” an ominous voice reverberated from the shadows. 

“Darsin,” Obi-Wan greeted. 

“How?!” the voice hissed, and a shadowy emanation flew through them. It was an incorporeal spirit though, and did them no harm on that pass, aside from startling the Padawans. 

“Your presence here, and your death, are known by the Jedi,” Obi-Wan said. “Is this your desire? To harass and harry forever those who find their way into your once Master’s domain?”

“Rivan was no longer my Master,” the voice identified as Darsin declared, and then exploded into an increasingly convoluted and invective strewn diatribe about how he had nearly been ready to slay Darth Rivan and usurp his title and temple. Despite his intention to remain inscrutable, Obi-Wan felt his eyebrow creeping up his forehead in bemusement. He knew he ought not be amused by the Sith spirit, but he couldn’t quite keep himself from being entertained. 

“Well then,” Obi-Wan said blithely when Darsin finally wound down some time later. “You certainly have a number of grievances against Rivan.” Darsin howled and rushed them again, a great shadow and wave of intense hatred that made the Padawans jump and shiver. 

“I have a baaaad feeling about this,” Anakin intoned, mostly under his breath.

“I should hope so,” Obi-Wan replied in a warm, teasing tone, and Anakin huffed softly. A moment later, a low ominous thrum sounded, and a Sith-red blade arced through the air. One of the Almas students screamed, ducking away from the swipe. “Aim for the hilt,” Obi-Wan commanded. “Remember our opponent is incorporeal, he cannot be hurt on this plane.” Anakin chanced a glance over, seeing his mentor’s face clear. A sharp wash of worry swept through Anakin, and Obi-Wan glanced over with a slight, sad smile. 

A question hovered in the bond between them. Obi-Wan would need to concentrate fully, would need to lean on Anakin’s incomparable strength. Could Anakin bolster him without reaching for the Dark that cloaked this place so heavily? Could Anakin find that obscure place where he was open metaphysically but still present in the moment, not immersed in the Force so deeply he could not defend them? Anakin nodded grimly. He could do this. He wasn’t sure exactly what Obi-Wan would be attempting, but Anakin could protect them, could be his mentor’s bulwark.

Obi-Wan’s smile widened slightly, and then he closed his eyes. For a moment, Obi-Wan felt to Anakin as if he was entering meditation, his Force presence intensifying and yet thinning as he opened himself to that ineffable energy that bound all of creation. In a clear commanding voice, Anakin ordered the other Padawans to form a ring of protection around Obi-Wan. They would protect his body while he battled the Dark spirit on a different plane.

The Force rang through all of them, and Anakin nearly gasped aloud as his mentor’s presence flared. In their usual meditations, Obi-Wan had never opened himself so fully to the Force. It seared through him and for a heartbeat, it seemed as if the entire universe held its breath. Then Darsin screamed in rage and threw himself at the Light, drawn inexorably toward it as a moth is drawn to flame. Anakin and the Almas students blocked and parried as six red bladed ‘sabers were wielded against them by the Force alone. 

The Dark presence howled and seethed, throwing itself against Obi-Wan again and again. And again and again Obi-Wan refused to let his spirit be corrupted. Again and again Obi-Wan opened himself to Light and life and the pure love of compassion, acknowledging Darsin’s pain and hatred and fear, accepting them as valid responses to the abuses Darsin had suffered in life at the hand of his Master, Darth Rivan. With a final searing scream in the Force, Darsin was utterly immolated, his spirit finally dispersed to wherever Sith went when they passed from the mortal world. 

Anakin nearly staggered as he felt the Dark presence disappear. Obi-Wan’s presence flared all the brighter without that shadow lingering close, and then Obi-Wan was staggering back into pure physicality, collapsing like a marionette with snapped strings. Anakin caught his mentor gently, extending his own Force presence tentatively to the older man. Obi-Wan’s muted consciousness brushed back warmly though, accepting Anakin’s mental closeness with quiet gratitude and joy. 

For so long that easy acceptance of Obi-Wan’s had seemed a trap to Anakin, a false front. It had seemed to him that no one could be so compassionate. But that was Obi-Wan, he was forced to accept. An impossibility in so many ways, and someone who accepted Anakin wholly and without judgment, only striving to help Anakin to become the best possible version of himself. Perhaps he really was growing up, at least a little, Anakin thought bemusedly as Obi-Wan slowly blinked back to full consciousness. 

“Something is wrong,” Obi-Wan said quietly. Anakin’s quiet joy faded. “Not here, not anything we can change. But we should complete our mission here at best speed. We are needed elsewhere.” Anakin nodded, and with his Padawan’s help, Obi-Wan rose. He looked over the other students, and smiled at them gently. “You have done well today. Let us see what else we can accomplish.” The students beamed at the approval of a Master, and they set about clearing and documenting aspects of the Temple that the resident ghost had previously prevented researchers from accessing.

They remained in the Temple for three days more, before their supplies began to run low. When they exited, they found the thick walls had prevented all communiques from reaching them, and their comms shrilled with the influx of messages. Obi-Wan and Anakin traded wary looks, tapping their comms to see what had come in. Flagged most urgent was a message from the High Council via the Temple beacon. They traded another glance, then activated the message in unison.

“This is Mace Windu, Master of the Jedi Order. Coruscant and the Temple are under attack. Jedi of Coruscant, _all_ travel to Galactic Center is interdicted at this time. Report to the closest Temple and standby for further orders. All Jedi, standby for recall by Temple. Do _not_ return to Coruscant at this time. May the Force be with you all,” the little blue hologram of Mace directed sternly, and Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, then pushed his rush of fear into the Force. Taking a deep breath, he scrolled quickly through the other messages. There were communiques with various levels of urgency and encryption waiting for review. They could wait a little longer.

“Let’s get back to Forard,” Obi-Wan urged, and the students nodded, faces slack with shock. They gathered their remaining supplies quickly, and were soon loping across the wastes back to the Solar Sailor. Anakin piloted, Obi-Wan meditating in the co-pilot’s chair. Was this then the wrongness he’d felt in the Force a few days before? The timing was right, and as he meditated, the Force seemed to support that conclusion. Hopefully when they reached the Academy and he went through his messages properly, there would be better news.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After learning of an attack on Coruscant, Obi-Wan has some opinions to share with the High Council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may have noticed the rating on this story increased when this chapter went up. That’s because the end of this chapter features Mace and Obi-Wan having explicit GFFA FaceTime sex. Don’t want to read it? Cool. Leave when Anakin does. Everything after that is sex and sappiness.

Leaning against the doorway, Anakin listened to the Councillors bicker over the appropriate course of action. Some of them wanted to call up the all too convenient clone army. Others wanted to open negotiations, despite that sending teams of mediators to Separatist worlds had grown increasingly dangerous in the past years, and had already cost Jedi lives. All agreed _something_ had to be done, but none of them seemed able to agree on what that something would or even _should_ be.

“Are you mad?” Obi-Wan finally broke in, and the Council Masters quieted. “Do you not remember the Stark Conflict? The Yinchorri Uprising? Do you not remember when last we rushed into battle?” he demanded. “I cannot conscience it,” Obi-Wan declared firmly, and the Councillors, used to Obi-Wan’s loyal obedience, simply stared. 

“Masters, we are peacekeepers,” Obi-Wan said firmly. “How many of you had led an army into battle prior to the Separatist strike at Galactic Center? A militia even? How many of you have ordered men, women, and yes, even children to die at your command, at the time you have appointed?” They shifted uncomfortably, eyes slipping from one to another, each hoping someone else might speak up. 

“The Jedi are not Generals. We are peacekeepers. This weapon,” Obi-Wan said, resting his fingers gently against the hilt of his ‘sabre, “is my life. This I was taught by my Master, and he, presumably, by _his_ Master and so forth back unto the founding of our venerable Order. This weapon is my life, and it is my absolute last resort. If I have drawn my blade, I have already decided that the being across from me is my enemy, and that they must die.

“No. I refuse you here and now. I have fought in a war, Councillors. I have led a militia. I have commanded children _children_ little older than the Padawans you would conscript into this same duty. I tell you now, that is a test you do not wish to present to the Order as a whole. I mourn our brethren with you, but vengeance is not the Jedi way. Answering this attack with an escalation of aggressions imperils us all.

“Moreover, which army shall we lead against the unnumbered droids of the commerce guilds? The Jedi? We are ten thousand or so strong, yes, but that number has been dropping precipitously, and it is our Masters, those able to train the next generation we will lose first, that we have already lost in defense of Coruscant. And when the Masters have fallen, who then shall we send? Untested Padawans? Untrained Initiates? Our aged and infirm?

“Or perhaps the clone troopers shall be sacrificed. Beings who have been trained from birth to believe that to fight for us is their only purpose, when no being in creation is born to die? Beings who have been, despite our intervention, bought and paid for? An army which, due to Master Dooku’s investigations we well know is the creation of the Sith, and the use of which as originally intended by the Sith should be therefore inherently anathema to us? No. You will appeal next to my sense of duty to the Republic,” Obi-Wan continued, and the Councillors again shifted like naughty younglings caught at their mischief. 

“And I appeal in return to your compassion for _all_ sentient beings. The Separatist Crisis is a Crisis because the Senate has named it so. Because a thousand worlds and more have grown tired of the corruption at the heart of the Republic and the bureaucratic morass that is the Senate and Judicial Branch, and decided that rather than pay lip service to a government that no longer rules by their consent, they will rule themselves.

“Ten years ago, had we not broken the blockade around Naboo, the Senate would have done exactly nothing to see the Trade Federation punished even as an isolated world was starved to death to further the trade Federation’s greed. Furthermore, despite that the former Senator of Naboo has ascended to the Chancellery, there have been exactly zero repercussions for the Trade Federation. No one has paid for the unlawful blockade of Naboo. I doubt anyone ever will.

“If we go to war at command of the Senate, we will be breaking vows made by every generation of our Order to protect all life. Not only the Republic, Masters; the weak, the defenseless, _all life_. We will be taking part in a military conflict that frankly has nothing to do with us. We are a religious Order Councillors, and I urge you to think foremost on _that_. A state funded Order, yes, but most money disbursed by the Senate for our use is for disaster relief. Our operating costs are almost nothing, or are counterbalanced by the services we render.

“I would remind the Council that we placed ourselves, voluntarily, and I do stress _voluntarily_ under the auspices of the Senate after the Ruusan Reformation. A Reformation that stripped the Order of its military might, and for good reason. The Republic was nearly shattered during the Sith Wars. Jedi Fell by the dozens - by the _hundreds_ \- as they led armies and armadas in battle. Jedi Fell and were Reconciled and Fell again as siblings fought against siblings, as Master fought against Padawan. And that Reformation clearly was not as sweeping as we once thought, if the Sith have survived.

“So no, Councillors. I will not go to war. I will complete my mission to discover all that I can about Maul, and I will undertake any mission with peaceful mediation of conflict or disaster relief as its parameters. I will do my utmost to protect the peace, to negotiate fair treaties. I will lead any relief mission you hand me. But I will not be a General. I would relinquish my weapon before I draw it under such terms, and I would urge you to refuse the Senate’s purse before you agree to kill in their name,” Obi-Wan finished fiercely. 

Anakin stared from outside the range of the holorecorder, rather in awe. He had seen Obi-Wan argue with Mace about Council business, but he had never imagined Obi-Wan would argue the Council entire. But rather than becoming more relaxed as messages from friends and members of their Lineage rolled in, asserting their safety, Obi-Wan had instead grown steadily more angered the more he learned of the attack on Coruscant, and the immediate aftermath. The picture they were putting together was still choppy of course, it would take time to piece together all the moving parts in such a large scale assault. But Obi-Wan clearly didn’t like what he was seeing. 

“Your concerns do you credit,” Plo Koon said after a long pause. Depa, Shaak Ti and Adi Gallia all dipped their heads in concordance, and Obi-Wan saw the minute shift in Mace’s posture that conveyed his agreement.

“The Sith have been leading us to the point of war for decades,” Dooku said from his seat behind Yoda; he had been afforded a place as Yoda’s advisor once he was officially Reconciled to the Order, nominally to keep the Council up to date with matters on Kamino. Before leaving the Order, Jan had temporarily filled a seat on the Council more than once, so there was hope there wouldn’t be too much outcry about the promotion. 

“To allow them to tie us to this violence will do the Jedi no good, and may indeed do the Order a great ill. Although perhaps not at the same scale as my grandpadawan, I too have lead Jedi in battle. I do not invoke Galidraan lightly, but there is no more apt comparison I can draw. The terms have already been dictated by one who declares themself an enemy of the Jedi and the Republic. Conforming to their desire to join battle will only result in a repetition of that disaster,” Dooku warned. 

“And if we are to become Generals, who then would do the works we now accomplish?” Shaak Ti said in her regal manner. “The reputation of the Jedi, the willingness of others to listen to our wisdom, depends upon our beneficial actions, our missions of peace and mercy. If we are become war, we would welcome our destruction.” 

“This concerns me as well,” Depa said, dipping her head politely to Shaak to signal her accordance with the Togruta Master’s concerns. “As Master Kenobi reminds us, we are a religious Order, not a military one although we are increasingly called upon in that manner. But here too is evidence of Master Dooku’s assertions; there is a hand pushing us to take up arms, to spread ourselves thin. I agree we must resist this impulse.”

“For your report we thank you,” Yoda said, addressing Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan bowed slightly in response.

“If there’s no other business?” Mace asked, a flick of his fingers telling Obi-Wan to remain connected. The other Councillors shook their heads and began to rise, murmuring blessings to one another. “A word, Master Kenobi,” Mace said, outwardly as serene as ever. The other Councillors filed out, and Mace sat, waiting, his fingers slowly tightening around the arms of his chair until he was utterly alone in the Council chambers. 

“Mace?” Obi-Wan asked, concerned he had pushed too far in his defiance with the other Councillors present. Mace drew in a deep breath. 

“Do you know what it does to me?” Mace asked, and his voice had dropped at least half an octave, low and demanding. Obi-Wan shivered, understanding instantly. 

“Anakin, you’ll be wanting to leave now,” Obi-Wan said mildly, and shrugged out of his over robe. 

“I - really? _Really_?” Anakin exclaimed, and then fled with an embarrassed laugh as Obi-Wan’s utility belt thudded to the floor. 

“I was being so professional though,” Obi-Wan murmured with false innocence, unwinding his sashes and tugging at the ties that held his tunics closed. While he hadn’t intended his defiance to wind Mace up, he wasn’t going to turn him down either, not when it had been so long and he ached for his lover, needed reassurance that Mace was whole and uninjured, that in the end, everything would be alright. 

“You know how beautiful you are when you’re fired up?” Mace asked, slouching down a little further in his seat and pulling out his cock, stroking slowly, teasing his balls on the downstroke. “Probably a good thing you’ve never done that in the actual Council chambers, not sure I could restrain myself from having you right on the chamber floor.” Obi-Wan groaned, going to his knees in front of the holorecorder lens, stroking himself, matching his rhythm to Mace’s. 

“Would you like that?” Obi-Wan asked curiously, “to have me in front of them, to show them how I beg you for more?” 

“In theory? An interesting idea,” Mace growled, his stroking increasing in speed and showing just how interested he was. “I doubt either of us would enjoy it in reality; I wouldn’t want to share you, and you - you’re so swift to blush when you think someone might overhear us, never mind see.” 

“True,” Obi-Wan gasped, thrusting up into his hand. “Uh, and like this? If it was just the two of us in the chamber?” Mace groaned, head tipping back briefly. 

“I think I’d have your mouth first,” Mace said almost thoughtfully. “I think I’d like to sit here and have you lick me, suck me slow and deep.” 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan agreed, speeding his strokes. “Yes, Master,” he moaned, and Mace swore, coming hard over his fingers. Roleplay was a fairly new addition to their personal holocalls, but Mace had realized very quickly how very much he enjoyed his lover calling him Master. 

“That’s it beautiful,” Mace encouraged huskily. “That’s it, come for me sweetheart, come in your hand, then eat it up, I know you haven’t been getting the come you need in your belly.” Obi-Wan moaned, but he was close enough that Mace’s roughly voiced command dropped him into orgasm. He spurted in his hand as Mace directed, milking every drop onto his fingers and palm. Looking up, Obi-Wan caught Mace’s dark gaze, then slowly licked the come from his fingers. “Stars sweetheart, so beautiful,” Mace murmured, and Obi-Wan’s cheeks heated. “Can’t wait until you come home.” 

“Soon,” Obi-Wan promised huskily. They talked a little longer, Mace reassuring Obi-Wan as to the health and safety of the other members of his lineage, and of Mace’s own lineage, relaying the status of the Almas student who had been trapped in the Coruscant Temple during the Separatist strike, and the furore the archivists and lore keepers were in over the amount of data from the _Chu’unthor_ of which they didn’t have complementary records. It was looking more and more like some of the previous archivists had weeded and pruned the main library to the point of censorship, and Jocasta Nu was in open revolt, utterly aghast at the idea of someone meddling with _her_ data.

Obi-Wan smiled at the mental image, remembering well the tongue lashing Jocasta had given Dooku for deleting records of the Kaminoans system from the archive. Before too long both Mace and Obi-Wan signed off. While the interdiction order for Coruscant had been struck approximately a day after the attack, traffic was still heavily embargoed traveling toward Galactic Center. Obi-Wan wanted very much to go home, to reassure himself that the others were safe, to join together with all his brothers and sisters in the Order as they mourned those lost in the attack. 

Jedi codes would gain Obi-Wan access, but despite his concern for Temple and Order - his more selfish desires to assure himself that his family was whole and safe - he knew his primary obligation was to finish the investigation on Maul. Keeping Anakin from Coruscant, and the being there who had been trying to influence him was a close second among Obi-Wan’s priorities. They would astrogate the outer rings of the galaxy in Maul’s wake, seeking evidence of his actions as assassin and enforcer for the Sith Lord. And if they happened to counteract Separatist plans in their travels, well. The Force worked as the Force willed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks! thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it. I am working on the sequel and a couple side stories in this 'verse, to take us through the war and happily ever after.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to come say hey to me on tumblr, i'm @wrennette there too.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [All Through the Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11804436) by [bluedragoninamber](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedragoninamber/pseuds/bluedragoninamber)




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